The ally that I fell in love with
by DifferentGenres-SameStory
Summary: The games tear people apart. Brother turns on brother, friends become enimies, no one else matters in that battle for survival. But sometimes, just sometimes, it can bring people together.
1. Chapter 1: Be careful what you wish for

I didn't know how it had happened. It's like he jumped on me, caught me out when I least expected it. I would have hated me being off guard anyway, it isn't something you take pride on in district 4. But I was in the exact place when you should be on constant alert for that kind of thing: The 68th annual hunger games. But no, this isn't what you think. It wasn't an attack on me. I'm still alive. I won. It was an attack on my feelings.

This is the story of the ally that I fell in love with.

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><p>"So, are you ready Zara?" asked my dad, while straightening the collar of my dress, which had been saved for a special occasion. (I guess today counted.) I wasn't, but I don't think any of us were. The reaping wasn't exactly a festivity, even in the career districts.<p>

"Yeah, of course." I said reassuringly, as I knew that my father was more scared than I was. "And anyway, what are the odds of me being picked?" This didn't seem to help him from shaking.

My mother came in, and my father straightened up. Maybe it was the fact that he had always been a bit scared of her, or it could have been how she was so tough, but I could have sworn that she didn't look worried about me at all. In fact, there was a trace of a smile on her face.

"Todays the day!" she cried, "So, how many times are you in the bowl again?"

"4." I said, as I began to tie up my auburn hair with an elastic band.

"Just like our district! That's a lucky sign that is!" noticing how messy my hair was, she sighed and began to redo my hair, this time with a ribbon.

"There, you look much better now." She said, "But I don't know why you haven't left your hair down, you look so much prettier that way." I ignored her.

"Here," said father, holding out a piece of toast. "You need some food in you."

"Don't let her eat that Seth!" Yelled mother, whacking it out of his hands onto the table. "You know how she's such a messy eater, she'll get crumbs all over her new dress!" my father nodded solemnly, but quickly snuck it into my hand with a wink when mother wasn't looking.

"There, you look lovely now." Said mother, flattening the creases on my dress. You would have thought I was 5, not 15. "If you get picked, you'll make a wonderful impression on the capitol."

"Of course mother." I said with my best sickeningly sweet smile, not wanting to disappoint her. But when she was gone, I sighed. My mother and I were nothing alike at all. She always seemed to enjoy the games, and think of the Capitol as if it were amazing. I disagreed, and made this clear a couple times in some of my rants (Not when the peacekeepers were around of course.) my rants made me very unpopular with the people at school though, (this may also have been because I always fell asleep at school when the teachers gave their daily speech about the glory of the capitol. I thought this was a bit unfair, as our teacher's voice was so dreary that it was practically impossible to stay awake when he was talking about _anything_.) And at every reaping I could swear that people were silently wishing for me to be picked.

I was more like my father, with my stubbornness to be brainwashed by the capitol, plus the ability to lie through our teeth. We also looked the same, with our brown eyes, small nose and messy hair. Unfortunately I'd also inherited his badness at sports, (although I was ok at running.) and his lack of courage. I knew that if I was picked, I would probably die the first day. Unless the danger would give me an adrenaline rush. Or maybe (though it was very unlikely.) I would become better than I thought. They do say that the games will change everyone.

"It's 10 o'clock!" I heard my mother call from the next room, "Time to go!" I exchanged a glance with my father, before following out of the door. Before it closed I gave one last look around the hallway. If the odds weren't in my favour, I would never see the place again.

We walked into the town square, me holding onto my father's hand tightly. My stomach had started to feel like it was on fire, just like it did every year. I saw children doing the same, saw people nodding and smiling to each other. We all feel closer on the reaping day.

When we arrived in the square, and we were immediately required to get into order. I gave a hug to my parents. I knew that if I got picked, I'd get another chance to say goodbye, but I clung my arms around my father's neck, not wanting to go. I wanted to become 10 years younger, so I could curl up in his arms, too small to be in the reaping. But I was nearly 16. I had to act grown up, for my father's sake at least. I gave him one last smile, and made my way through the crowds of hysterical mothers (mine seemed to be the _only_ one who enjoyed the games.) and nervous teenagers to find my best (and only) friend Mantis, a tall freckly boy with vivid orange hair, who was the only person who also hated the capitol. Or showed it. He grinned when he saw me.

"Heya Paylor, you ready?" He asked. He always called me Paylor, which is my last name. I'd always hated the name Zara, and only let my father call me it. I'd be using Paylor for so long I think everyone has forgotten what my first name actually was.

"You bet I am." I grinned back, even though I had never felt so different from that.

Unfortunately Mantis, being my best friend, he was also was the only person who knew when I was lying. "Sure you are, bet you'll be saying that when you're having a sword shoved through your stomach."

I could tell he was acting silly to take our minds off the reaping, so I gratefully played along by acting offended, "Oi! I have a chance!" He looked at me. "Ok, maybe I wouldn't." I snapped, "But you never know, the odds may be in my favour!"

Mantis laughed at my impression of Effie Trinket, our districts escort. "Oh, I forgot to say! Happy hunger games!" He cried waving his arms about. We both collapsed into laughter, despite our feeling terrified. We carried on like this, making sure to keep our voices down in case there were any Peacekeepers about, but we couldn't help attract the attention of the people around us, and a few death glares which came with it.

"Can't wait to see how funny you are when your name gets called." came a cold voice behind me. I turned to see Garter, the monstrous boy two years above me in school. He was the school bully, and part of the popular crowd. He was also my mortal enemy. "You wouldn't last 5 minutes there." He mocked.

I shrugged, "probably not. What about you though? Will you be slashing up innocent little 12 year olds as soon as the gong rings?"

Garter smirked, "well, considering I signed up for tesserae 8 extra times, I obviously want to win it."

"Until a pack of wolves jumps in and eats you." Snapped Mantis.

"Yeah right," Came the sly voice of Shiya, Garter's girlfriend and fellow bully. "And like you could do any better." She tossed her blonde hair over her shoulder. "Anyway, I bet it's me. I signed up for tesserae the first year. I'll be in it….62 times? I'm not afraid. I want the glory, same as Dana, and Katona.[Her best friends] Unlike you, loser." They turned away, laughing, and I felt Mantis sag a little. He'd liked Shiya for years now, despite her mean attitude. I was about to give him my usual speech on how he didn't deserve her, and how he was a great guy and all that stuff, be the sound of the Mayor coming on stage interrupted me, so I did my best to be understanding by patting him gently on the shoulder.

The mayor gave his speech on the rise of the games and the reason why they were created. It was the same every year, so I wasn't surprised when he himself looked bored. While he was talking, I whispered to Mantis, "I hate them. You know, sometimes I wish that I would be picked, just to spite them." I'm joking of course, because when Effie hopped on stage, wearing a blue tweed jacket and silk skirt, her trademark pink wig fixed in place, I'm terrified. "Welcome everyone!" she cried in her usual voice, as if today was her birthday and Christmas all wrapped into one. "Happy 68th hunger games!" I felt the corners of my mouth twitching, and could sense Mantis' doing the same. "This is all so exciting! Well, let's not dilly dally, it's time to pick our tributes for District 4!" she moved towards the bowl with her usual smile, and cried out, "ladies first!" her hand froze over the bowl. "And may the odds be ever in your favour!" I wasn't laughing now. 4 may not be a big number, and this was a _big_ district, but there were still 4 pieces of paper with my name on it that bowl, 4 chances to be picked.

Effie scrambled around the bowl, taking her time, while we all waited in agony. She finally grasped a slip of paper, and held it out to the audience. She unravelled it, while walking to the mike. I could hear my heart beating as fast as lightning. Mantis' hand found mine and squeezed it, but I barely noticed it. Please don't be me, please don't be me-

"And, our newest female tribute for district 4 is…." The crowd gasped. Parents clutched each other in fear. You could hear a pin drop. Just say it you stupid woman, you're killing us all, please just say it, and please don't let it be me-

"Is….." Please…

Effie reads out the name. People gasp. People cheer. People cry out in relief.

Because my wish has come true. It's not Dana. It's not Katona. And it's not Shiya.

It's me.

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><p>Please read and review! It's my frist time writing so i'd love to hear what you think! Try and guess who the male tribute will be! My next chapter will probably be in around 2-3 days, so stay tuned!<p>

Love Lucy


	2. Chapter 2: Final goodbyes

My world has crashed, all my feelings, my past, my life, it has all submerged into the fact that I am going to die. I feel as if I'm burning, images of my life flash before my eyes with the voice of Effie Trinket calling my name: my father hugging me happily, Mantis grinning, knowing that I would never see this again. I start breathing heavily, because no, it couldn't be me. I was only in there 4 times; Shiya was in _62_ times. It had to be a mistake-

"Zara? Where's Zara?" My eyes go back into focus, and I can see the face of Mantis, his eyes as big as dinner plates, keeping hold of my hand and begging me silently, _don't go up there. Run._

But I can't, and he knows it. I pull my arm from his grasp, noticing that it was shaking wildly, take a deep breath, and walk my way up to stage. I see the faces of other teens looking at me with pity, but of course there were the ones who were snickering.

I stumble a bit on my way, and hear a few laughs. I clench my fists. It's not enough to die on TV, but now I've just humiliated myself on it too. I hear a commotion behind me, and turn to see my father being held back by Peacekeepers, while other parents try desperately to move away as they stare in horror, and my mother shaking her head in disgust as he struggles to get to me. There are tears in his eyes, but there's nothing he can do. He's too old to volunteer. He doesn't have the power to change things. He looks at me with pleading eyes, saying the same thing as Mantis, but I just give him a shake of my head, and begin to walk again.

A second commotion. My father has fainted.

I keep my fists clenched, eyes ahead, until I arrive at the podium. "Here she is!" cries Effie, looking thrilled at the excitement my father has caused. "You must be thrilled, aren't you?" before I have time to reply (which would come out in spluttering and squeaking anyway.) she carries on, "But of course, we're not done yet! We still have the male tribute to select!" The second she has turned away I let out a squeak, and try to calm myself as Effie sticks her hand into the bowl of boy's names. The majority of girls are now looking relieved, but the boys are as terrified as ever. The only one I hope won't be picked is Mantis. Not just because he would die. He's actually pretty good at athletics. Better than me anyway. No, it was also because I want to come home, and that's not going to happen if Mantis is with me. I could never kill my best friend. Not that I could kill anyone anyway.

Effie pulls out a slip, and the crowd grows silent again. I can almost hear the heartbeat of nearly every teenaged boy in the square. But I don't care who gets picked, I'm too busy being scared for myself. Just as long as it isn't Mantis. Oh, and if I have the smallest chance of winning, if can't be-

"Garter Wilde! Come on up here Garter!" My blood runs cold, and I let out a small groan. Of course it is. It has to be. Judging by my luck, it has to be the most brutal person in the district who's my opponent. Still, at least I won't feel bad killing him. If I can.

Shiya cheers and hugs him, in such a soppy way Mantis and I would have pretended to be sick by now. But because of my current predicament, neither of us are in the mood for joking.

Garter swaggers up to the stage; looking a little bit nervous, but nervous like a child is before it goes fishing for the first time. People cheer for him as he passes. It's alright for them though. They won't be dead in the next week.

He climbs on stage, and gives me a stare which straight away I understand as, "you'll be dead in a day, I'll make sure to kill you myself." He gives a quick dashing smile to the audience, and then turns back to me so I'm able to cast him a glare which I hope he read as "we'll just see about that." Hopefully that'll confuse him. He's always been a bit empty in the head. I guess he has the muscle to make up for it.

"Now, it's time to ask: are there any volunteers out there?" I know that none of the boys will take Garter's place. He's been wanting this his whole life. if whoever went in his place managed to come home, Garter would probably kill him anyway. But I stare pleadingly into the audience of girls, begging somebody to take my place. I catch Shiya's eye; didn't she want to be in the games? She would have a chance of winning, she's brilliant at throwing a spear, I've seen her fish. But all she does is give me a cocky grin, as if she's saying, "ha, sucks to be you." And apart from that, there's nothing except the sound of the birds. No one wants to help me.

"Well, so there we have it! Ladies and gentlemen, our tributes for District 4, Garter Wilde and Zara Paylor!" Trills Effie. There's a scatter of polite applause, and a huge whoop comes from my mother. In spite of it all, I roll my eyes. We are now required to shake hands, and I wince as Garter makes his best attempt to crush my fingers without anyone noticing. And then it's all over.

The peacekeepers lead me to the justice building, and inside a bleak white room with a couple black chairs. They sit me down and walk out, no doubt going to collect my parents.

I stare across the room, though there was nothing to look at. White walls. White celling. White floors. All so clean and bright that it seemed unnatural, and keeping your eyes open for too long would make them start to ache.

It's weird, I'm not feeling scared anymore. Well, I _am_, but I feel numb, and the thoughts of my painful death which are sure to come feel dreamlike, as if it would all be an illusion. I've stopped feeling terrified and have started to feel depressed, almost insane. Great. If this is what I'm like now, how on earth am I going to manage in the arena?

My mother bursts in, and sweeps me up in a hug. At first I hug her back, a _real_ hug, because knowing that I'm never going to see her again makes me realise that I _do_ love her, even though she can be irritating sometimes. Well, _all _of the time. I hear her sniffing, and I think that she's upset by all of this, but when I pull out of the hug at last I see that there _are_ tears in her eyes, but there's a huge smile on her face too.

"Why isn't father here?"

"He wanted to talk to you alone, for some odd reason." She stops looking confused and beams at me. "Oh Zara, I'm so proud of you, this is our chance for some real glory!" she cries.

I want to slap her. But there is so much happiness in her eyes; I don't have the heart to. Even though this is supposed to be about me. So I manage to put on a little smile and say," Yes mother, I can't wait!" She bursts into fresh tears, and embraces me again, so I can barely breathe.

"Darling, I can't believe our luck! [Lucky for _you_, maybe.] Ok, hunny, we need to work out a plan of action."

"Plan….of action?"

"Of course! I've actually thought of one myself, I came up with it years ago, although you never volunteered." She pauses to give me a disapproving look. "But no matter! You're older now, so you have a better chance!"

And she begins to explain this plan to me, which involves running to point A, joining the careers, and then doing a roll, using a certain type of knife, and I think there's a bird in there somewhere? I just drift into daydreams, nodding at every pause she makes, saying "hmm." In approval when she asks what I think about it so far. I wonder that if she's so excited, why did she never volunteer for the games herself? I come to realise though, as she explains in detail how I stab someone, that she's sending me into huge groups of people, all armed. She doesn't seem to care if I get hurt. I see the savageness in her eyes as she shows me her choice of weaponry and it tells me that I can die all I want, as long as district 4 takes home the crown.

"Still, if this plan fails, at least we'll have Garter to depend on!" she finishes with a flourish.

This crushes me like a bug. So she doesn't want me, she wants Garter. She cares more about winning than her own daughter's life. She complimenting him, casting me aside and showing her love for Garter. My worst enemy.

Tears have started to spring up in my eyes, so I duck my head to make sure that she doesn't see them. But she does.

"Zara, why on earth are you crying?" I give a defiant sniff, and say,

"It's Paylor."

She shakes her head pityingly, "you can't be crying in the Careers group, they'll squash you. And I-"

"Maybe I don't _want_ to join the careers." I say coldly, crossing my arms. I'm acting like a 2 year old, I know, but anger is starting to bubble up inside of me. Doesn't she care at all?

"Ha! Don't make me laugh. Hunny, you know you'll never survive without them."

That's it. I don't love her anymore.

I'm up out of chair like a shot. "Get out!" I cry, "Get OUT!" this was the only thing I'd inherited from my mother: a bad temper.

Lucky for me her anger doesn't appear, she just seems startled at my sudden insanity. "Zara, what are you"-I snatch the plan sheet from her hands and rip it to shreds. I don't want anything to do with her anymore.

"DON'T CALL ME _ZARA_!" I scream. Peacekeepers run into the room after hearing my sudden outburst. Half of them grab me by the shoulders and hold me back, the other half take my mother from the room. I stop screaming, and turn to sobbing, deciding this would be safer in the presence of peacekeepers. Wouldn't want to get in trouble. Well, more trouble than I'm already in.

Once I'm calm the peacekeepers walk out once more, and I have just enough time to wipe my tears before Mantis comes running in. he also sweeps me in a hug, but I know this one is a distraught one, so I don't think twice before returning it. We stay this way for a while.

"You have to win, Paylor."

"I can't, you _know_ I can't-"

"Don't say that, you _can_. If you just try-"

"You mean _kill_ people?" I don't want to know another plan.

"No, I mean hide, or be resourceful, use your brain to survive. Don't just give up."

I give him a look. "Cheesy much, Mantis?"

"Look, you have to come home. I mean," He gives me the biggest grin he can muster, which isn't very big; "You're my only friend here. I don't wanna wind up on my own. Remember, it's all about me."

I laugh. A joke around is just what I need right now. "Of course," I say, "I'm so sorry, how dare I think about myself in your time of need!" we both smile, and don't say anymore. We don't need to. I've heard all that I need to hear. So we sit in silence, hands entwined (not romantically of course, we decided ages ago that if we ever became a couple, then we'd have no friends at all.) until the peacekeepers come and take him away.

While he's standing up, Mantis gives me one last smile, and says, "Don't forget, make sure you kill Garter. Then I'll have Shiya all to myself!" I give a laugh, even though my eyes are beginning to water again. Suddenly I have the urge to get up and grab Mantis from the peacekeepers and keep him with me. Knowing that I'm never going to see such a sweet, funny person as him, it breaks my heart; I don't want him to go. But I think the peacekeepers are sick to death of me as it is. So I just watch with sad eyes as the last part of my best friend disappears behind the door.

Finally, my father comes in. I know I haven't had many visitors, but that's ok, I get to spend more time with the people who matter. With the exception of my mother. And strangely enough, my mother is the first thing my father talks about.

"Your mother's crying."

I glare at him. "It's her own fault, I'm just sick of her trying to use me for glory!"

"I know Zara, I know." He says. I know that he wants to say more, but deciding that my need is better than mothers, he hugs me like everybody else has.

Again, we hug for a while, but he then pulls away, suddenly urgent, and says, "You can't insult the Capitol when your there, ok? You can't go into one of your rants about how they're stuck up, no-"

"But you called them that yourself!"

"Please, Zara," he looks at me with pleading eyes, "it won't help you, and it won't get you sponsored." I swallow, and know that he's telling the truth. Ranting won't get me favour. It won't stop the Capitol being what they are. All it will do is just make it seem easier for a Gamemaker to press a button which sends a poisonous dart through my chest. So I swallow hard, and then nod.

After a while of normal chit chat, (it was less painful to talk about random stuff.) I burst into tears and my father rocks me, and tells me that it's going to be ok. But it's not; I'm in the Hunger Games, for pities sake. I ask him if I have a chance at winning, and he kisses me on the top of the head and says yes. Strangely enough, he doesn't seem to be lying. And then the peacekeepers are coming in, and we're hugging and kissing and saying goodbye over and over, as if the other person can't hear how much we're going to miss them. And then the door slams, and I crumble onto my knees on the floor, tears streaming down my face as I re-begin shaking.

I am never going to see my family again.

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><p>ok, so my next chapter will probably be in 4-5 days. it would be sooner, but I'm completely swamped with homework. Still, please review and share with your friends, love to hear what you think of it, even if its critism. Anyway, hope you liked this chapter, i won't tell you much about the next chapter, but I can say that a certain hottie from district 4 is about to make an apperance ;)<p>

Love Lucy


	3. Chapter 3: Sick, twisted world

"Congratulations ZARA! You are now district 4's newest tribute! So, how do you feel?"

It's a stupid reporter shoving a mike in my face. I want to snarl at him, "Well, I've just been entered into a deadly contest in which I'll most likely die, or become a murderer, or BOTH. I may never see my family again and all of this is happening against my will. HOW DO YOU _THINK_ I FEEL?"

I know this won't help me, but I can't control my tongue to say something which will win the crowd over. I also don't want the whole of Panem to see me crying, I've been humiliated enough. So all I can do is run onto the train, wiping the tears from my face before the swear words start spilling out of my mouth.

Effie jumps on after me, and then the train starts moving. Effie tells me that I can do whatever I want, as long as I'm ready for lunch in a few hours. So I go to my room and collapse on the bed, staring at the ceiling. I want to cry, but I'm all teared out. Besides, I have to stay strong. Tears won't help me in the arena. I try to think of other things, but images of my nearing death keep creeping into my mind. Garter will probably be dancing around his room or something now, he'll be ecstatic. No wonder mother wants him as a son.

I decide to take a bath. Not because I need one, in fact I had one this morning (which feels like a year ago.) but mainly because the feel of the water calms me, reminds me of home. This is painful, but if I close my eyes I can imagine that I'm floating on the water, which I usually do to relax after a hard day of trying to learn to fish, (which I know I'll never be doing again.) and this is a lot less painful than thinking about what's going to happen to me.

As the warm water begins to fill with bubbles that smell like mint, I think about my father. Will he still be crying? I know mother won't, she'll be too busy telling everyone she lays her eyes on about her being the mother of a tribute. I sigh. My father must be so depressed, and he has no one to talk to about it. He doesn't really have any friends, (same as me.) and my mother would probably rip him to shreds if he started that conversation with her. I was usually the one father talked to about his problems, but now I'm the cause of them. To take my mind off father, I look around my compartment while I lather shampoo into my hair. The walls are a dark blue, with gold swirls painted on, and the carpet is a light cream. White furniture fills the room, and the biggest bed I have ever seen lays in the middle, with silk sheets. Everything seems so new and clean; it's something that I can barely imagine, even in district 4.

When I see that the clock is nearing 12:30, I get out and begin to dry myself, while stroking the silk sheets to soothe me, as I am still breathing heavily. I put my dress back on, but this time, I notice something jangling in the pocket. I delve my hand inside, and pull out a silver charm bracelet. I gasp. It's my lucky charm bracelet. I've had it since I was 7. It made of a fine silver thread, with different charms hanging of it: a fish, a flower, a shell, etc. in the middle of the charms hangs a heart shaped locket. In the heart is a photo of Father and Mantis. The only people I truly care about.

I'm confused on how it got there, and wonder if father slipped it into my pocket when we were saying goodbye. He must of, and his message couldn't be clearer: to wear it as my district token. I also know why he wants me to wear it. Not only will it give me luck, but it will remind me and the audience that tributes aren't just inanimate objects, pieces of the Capitol's games. They're not monsters. They're not killers. They can love.

Well I can anyway.

I dry my hair, tie it up, and then head to the dining compartment, my feet tripping a couple of times with the speed of the train. The room is a deep blood red, with a blindingly white carpet. The windows are nearly as big as the wall, and I wonder if anyone's fallen out of them before.

Effie is already there, wearing an orange tweed suit. (Which looks repulsive.) There's also a woman with huge bags under her eyes who's wearing a leather jacket, and a very good looking man with reddish golden hair and wearing a red t-shirt. He only looks a little older than me. They smile when they see me lurking in the doorway, and gesture me to sit down at the table, which is filled with dishes that I have never been lucky enough to set my eyes on, and now I get to try all of them! Effie isn't eating anything, the woman is sipping a drink which looks to be coffee, and the red haired man is slipping sugar cubes into his mouth. I think he's trying to look cool, but it just looks a little silly to be honest.

Garter strolls into the room, wearing a blue shirt and dark blue jeans. I hate to admit it, but it really compliments his brown hair. He gives a smile to Effie, and gives me another glare before sitting down. I wonder if he thinks I still care.

Now that we're both here, Effie gives us yet another beam, and begins to babble.

"Ok, so I bet you two are excited!" Garter nods enthusiastically, I just give a little shaky pretend nod that nobody notices, "so, I want to introduce you to your mentors, who will be your lifeline in the games. They will provide your gifts from sponsors, and be helping you get those sponsors. This is Skylar Respite," The tired looking woman gives us a little wave; "She won the 47th Games when she was 17." Effie then gives a smile to the red haired man, "And of course, I'm sure you know who this is-"

"Of course I know Finnick Odair!" cries out Garter. "Dude, that thing you did with the trident when the girl from 3 attacked you, that was amazing!" of course, I'm surprised I didn't recognise him earlier. It's Finnick, "the sex bomb."

I use quotation marks because the feelings I have for Finnick are yet another disagreement with everyone back at the district. I actually don't think that he's that attractive. I can't deny, he _is_ good looking, but he just seems to me to be arrogant and shallow, which reminds me greatly of Garter. Always having sex with the people we loathe, chatting up every girl he sets eyes on. When I came in I couldn't fail to notice that he had given me a wink, which I had ignored. Still, he was only 14 when he won, so I guess he'll be useful as a mentor.

Garter is sucking up big time, obviously trying to be the mentors favourite. Well, two can play at that game. I finally manage to tame my tongue, and start babbling out praise and how amazing it is to be here. Skylar accepts her thanks with a big smile, Effie is bubbling, but Finnick doesn't say anything, he just watches me with his eyebrows raised. And it doesn't seem sexual.

We tuck into dinner, and I try everything I can lay my hands on. Even in the career districts, there's not really enough food. At least, not like this. There's duck and there's fruit and yogurt and peas and mash and potatoes and pudding and bread and soup and rice and sauces all the different colours of the rainbow, and loads of dishes that I can't even recognize, and have to ask Effie what they are before I try some of it.

"Oh!" cries out Effie, clapping her perfectly nail polished hand to her forehead. "I almost forgot! Although the Mentors are a team, they will be working separately with you for your private coaching lessons."

Garter immediately shifts closer to Finnick, and in a way I don't blame him. Victor she may be, but Skylar looks tired and weak, not the ideal person you want coaching you for survival. Still, she's better than some, and I think of Haymitch from district 12. Not one tribute from 12 has survived the first day since he was mentoring. So I shift towards the right, in Skylar's direction. At least she's not cocky like Finnick is. I expect that most of the training underneath his rules includes a lot of listening to his "stories of amazingness". So we're both utterly disappointed when Finnick says, "I want the fellow redhead."

I groan underneath my breath, and Garter doesn't bother to hide his annoyance. He shoots another glare my way as if it's _my_ fault, before we're required to have a private talk with our mentors. I leave my unfinished ice cream with sad eyes, before I follow Finnick into the next compartment, which is a room filled with mirrors. (Probably so Finnick can look at himself all the time.)

As soon as he's closed the door behind us, Finnick proves his arrogance by saying, "Hey babe."

For a second, my stomach feels weird, but I quickly shake it out of myself and try to say with a smile, (which comes out more as a snap.) "Are we getting on with this or what?"

Finnick looks taken aback, but shrugs it off and quickly returns back to his usual grin as he sits down on one of the leather sofas. "Okay, okay. So, Zara-"

"I prefer Paylor." I interrupt. I then realise what I've done, so I smooth it over with a fake smile and a sickly sweet voice saying: "If you wouldn't mind."

Finnick laughs, but not meanly. "Okay then, _Paylor_, what are your talents?"

I think hard. I shrug.

"What are your hobbies?"

I think. Apart from being good at joking around, and the occasional sketching, there's nothing. I shrug.

"What are your tactics?"

I think. I shrug. I know this must be annoying, but I really can't think of anything. I had no idea that I was going to be chosen, was I? I feel stupid, a weakling, and I'm sure that Finnick will be regretting his choice.

He sighs, "You really need to give me something to work with here, babe."

I sniff, and cross my arms defensively. "Well….I can swim….but I doubt that'll help."

"Oh no, swimming can be very useful," says Finnick, "the arena could flood and you'd be the only one who can swim, so you'd survive." He pauses, "The capitol always seems to forget that." He says bitterly. I stare at him. What is he talking about?

He looks at me, and quickly gives his signature wink again. It's starting to irritate me, but I've got to get on his good side. I strain myself to try to blush, like I've seen hundreds of girls do before. It seems unfair to have to do this, because the Mentors should realise that when a person's been practically given a death sentence, they won't exactly be the happiest soul in Panem. But still, rules are rules. And I don't intend to break them.

Finnick grins back, and says, "Anything else?"

I rack my brains, "I've been fishing once-"

"That's good!"

"-With disastrous results."

"Oh. Not so good."

"I just get really nervous!" I cry. I know it won't matter how good I am, I need to get a backbone or I won't last 5 minutes in the arena.

Finnick thinks for a moment. "Well, nerves are something we can deal with. You have to-"

But Effie's chirpy voice cuts him off by telling me to go back to my compartment. I begin to stand up, give Finnick a fake smile, thinking that I've lied very well, until just when I'm about to close the door behind me.

I hear Finnick's voice saying, "By the way, a good tactic for you would be deceiving the others tributes. You're very good at acting." And he closes the door for me, leaving me to stand in shock.

He's seen right through me, I think grimly, while trying on the top I found in the wardrobe. If he can catch me out, who knows who else will? And what did he mean when he was talking about the Capitol? Plus, not once did he make a cocky remark in that private talk, apart from the "hey babe". Unless I'm mistaken, this isn't at all the Finnick Odair we see on TV.

I look out of my window, and all I can see is gravel. What district would we be in now? We must be close to the capitol; the journey takes less than a day.

My thoughts are interrupted by Effie calling me for dinner. I leave my hair down this time and walk to the dining compartment. This time I'm the last one there. Garter is already stuffing his face with Garlic bread, and just as I've sat down, he begins eating soup by the bowlful. I start to eat my chicken soup, when Effie says that we'll be watching the reapings in a few minutes, after we begin to talk tactics as a group. She then looks up from her tea and into my face, and gives a little squeal, making Skylar drop her spoon in shock.

"Zara, I never knew you were so pretty!" She cries. I frown a little bit at the use of my first name, but manage to curl my mouth into a smile and act as if I'm utterly flattered.

"You really think so?" I gush. Finnick gives the tiniest of snorts, one only I can hear.

"Oh yes, certainly!" exclaims Effie, "Your almost as good looking as Finnick!" she gives Finnick a little smile, and he replies with a roguish wink. Effie suddenly becomes red and flustered, and I get that weird feeling in my tummy again. I don't want to feel like this, but I guess if Finnick can charm anyone, he can charm me. I'm nothing special.

"You need to wear your hair down more often." Says Effie, her cheek colour finally going down. She's tries to embellish on this, but surprisingly Finnick cuts her off, suddenly sounding efficient.

"Ok, let's discuss tactics. Number one: don't get close to anyone. Perhaps join the careers, but no one else. Don't, I repeat DON'T. This may seem like a good idea, finding out all of their talents, but trust me: they'll find out yours. And then you're dead."

"Wouldn't matter if I told them, I'd still be able to kill them." Says Garter smugly, flexing his muscles. I splutter in my drink a bit, and he gives me a kick under the table.

"It's not just that," says Finnick, looking deadly serious. "Friends are more dangerous than enemies in these games. You can't kill friends, and it's harder when they die. And if you can't kill, then you can't win."

Garter and I nod.

"But yes, maybe, just MAYBE, joining the careers is ok," says Skylar. "They may help your odds of survival, plus they won't try to kill you at first."

"Yeah right", I mutter under my breath. Unfortunately, Garter hears me, and turns to me with a smirk.

"You're probably right, Paylor." He says.

"Right?" asks Effie, "right about what?"

"About the careers wanting to kill her." He answers. I feel my cheeks burning as heads turn my way. "She's so useless at everything she'd just be waste of space. They'd kill her instantly."

"Now, now," says Skylar disapprovingly, "that's a horrible thing to say-"

"You can't talk, Garter." I snarl, suddenly irritated. "One look at you and they'll mistake you for a gorilla. They'll spear you without a second thought and have you for dinner."

"Well, actually," pipes up Effie, "eating other tributes isn't exactly allowed in th-"but we're not listening to any of the adults anymore.

"You mean like people mistake you for in school?" he says. "Oh, and your friend, he resembles some kind of bug, no wonder he's called Mantis."

"Mantis?" says Skylar, sitting up on the sofa, "surely not, that's a name district 1 would give a child."

"And," begins Effie, "Zara looks nothing li-"

I jump out of my chair, knocking my glass of juice over and towering over Garter for once. With my hands clenched into fists, my inherited temper rising, I say as calmly as I can. "Don't you dare insult him! Keep talking like that, and I'll be the one to spear you myself!"

"Oh yeah?" says Garter mockingly, standing up as well, so once again I'm a midget. "I'll keep talking about that loser however I like! And like you'd be able to! You'd probably end up spearing yourself you're so stupid!"

"Well, if we sit down and return back to the talk of tactics," says Skylar, "you would both learn h-"

"Well then I'll kill you with my bare hands!" I shout. "And you're one to talk about losers! The way Shiya was hugging you, I was nearly sick she's so pathetic!"

Garter becomes red in the face, "Don't you talk about my girlfriend that way!"

"I'll keep talking about that loser however I like!" I say, mimicking him.

Garter knocks his third bowl of soup onto the floor. "Hey, that carpets just been cleaned!" protests Effie, but that's the least of our worries.

"I'LL KILL YOU!" He screams.

"NOT IF I KILL YOU FIRST!"

"Okay guys," says Skylar in a soothing voice, "let's all calm down, an-"

"YOU'LL NEVER GET YOUR HANDS ON WEAPONS-"

"THEN I'LL MAKE SURE TO RIP YOUR THROUGHT OUT WITH MY TEETH, I DON'T CARE HOW YOU DIE, AS LONG AS IT'S AS PAINFUL AS POSSIBLE!"

"Now come on," says Effie, looking horrified at our outbursts, "this isn't in the spirit of the games! Let's stop, a-"

He shoves me. "I'LL SLIT YOUR STOMACH OPEN AND THEN EVERYONE WILL CHEER, THEY HATE YOUR GUTS ANYWAY-"

I shove him back, right into the table, surprising everyone with my strength. "YEAH RIGHT, THEY HATE YOU MORE, THERE JUST AFRAID TO SAY SO BECAUSE YOU'RE A SAVAGE LITTLE ******, WHO HAS NO LIFE AND NO REAL FRIENDS-"

"Paylor, don't use that language. Stop this nonsense no-"

"YOU'VE ALWAYS BEEN SUCH A ******* LIER, PAYLOR! NO ONE LIKES YOU, NOT EVEN YOUR OWN MOTHER! SHE'S **_ALWAYS_ **LIKED ME BETTER!"

"AND THAT'S SUPPOSED TO **_UPSET ME_**?" I give a cruel laugh, "AND I'M GUESSING YOU LIKE HER TOO? BECAUSE YOU CAN HAVE HER AS A MOTHER! SHE'S JUST AS CLUELESS AS YOU-"

"CLUELESS? LOOK WHO'S TALKING PAYLOR! YOU AND YOUR STUPID EXCUSE FOR A FATHER, YOU BOTH-"

I slap him, and Effie gives a shriek. Our shout are being heard all over the train, we can hear the commotion and whispers outside the door, but I don't care. I just want to cause Garter as much pain as possible. I can see by his face, which has become thunder, that he is thinking the same thing.

"THAT'S IT!" He screams, "I DON'T EVEN CARE IF IT'S ILLEGAL, I'LL KILL YOU RIGHT NOW!" He punches me. He tries to get me on the face, but I leap sideways, so he just catches me on the arm, creating a bruise to match the one on his cheek.

"FINE! I'LL MAKE EVERYONE HAPPY AND MURDER YOU, GET RID OF YOU FOR GOOD, YOU ****, YOU ABSOLUTELY DISGUSTING *******!-"

"Seriously guys, stop this _now, _we're going to get into trouble-"

"I'LL BEAT YOU TO DEATH YOU LITTLE *****-"

"The guards might come if you two don't stop this nonsense at on-"

"I'LL ******* KILL YOU, YOU ****-"

"Just _cut it out_ gu-"

"YOU ****!"

"YOU ********!"

"Stop it ple-"

"YOUR WHOLE LIFE IS JUST A PIECE OF ****!"-

"Stop-"

"MORE LIKE YOURS, AND YOUR FACE!"

"YOU ******!

"YOU **_*******_**!"

"THAT'S ENOUGH!" Finnick roars. He's just in time, 5 seconds later and Garter and I would have leapt on each other.

We both stop, panting, our throats now sore from yelling. We're a bit ashamed that we got carried away, and we've both realised that our arguments are now stupid. We can't kill each other now. At least not without weapons anyway.

What also silences me is the realization that I've had a full conversation and not made a joke once. What's happening to me? Have the games changed me already? Shocked at Finnick's yelling, we both sit down quickly, and while the main course is brought in, nothing is said. Or while we're eating the duck, apart from when Finnick says:

"You should show the gamemakers your strength, Paylor." Skylar elbows him in the ribs.

No more is spoken until pudding has arrived. Effie puts down her spoon, and says, "well, now that we've all calmed down, let's get back onto tactics."

"Hmmm," mumbles Finnick, he looks up from his custard and turns to me and garter, and says, "I'm beginning to get the _teeniest_-just the _teeniest_-impression that you two don't like each other very much."

Skylar smiles, but Garter and I cry, "GOD YES!" in unison. We regret saying this straight afterwards, and brace ourselves for a lecture on "district spirit" and "the happiness of the hunger games". But to our uttermost surprise, our mentors appear to be_ smiling._

"This is good." Says Skylar.

"Huh? How is this_ good_?" asks Effie, looking utterly perplexed. She obviously wanted to rant about the reasons above.

"It's good because of the reasons we said earlier." Finnick explains to the 3 of us. "Usually the tributes from the same district are civil with each other. Some are even friends, some family. That makes it harder to kill them. Since you both hate the others guts, you won't mind them dying. That increases your chances of coming home."

"Won't mind?" says Garter. "I'd _love_ it." I stick my middle finger up at him.

"But that's not the spirit of the games!" says Effie, looking at us with confusion, "won't everyone back at their home hate them if one of them kills the other?"

"Yes, but that's the price you have to pay if you want to survive." Says Finnick grimly. The Finnick from before has completely disappeared. Why does he keep changing? I think. Which one is the real him?

"The best we can hope for is that someone from another district kills one of them before the other has a chance to." Sighs Skylar.

This is complete news to Effie, which is surprising because she's been an escort in the games for as long as I can remember. I wonder if any of the capitol helpers know what's really going on, what they've helped to create. It would explain a lot if they didn't.

What Skylar has said is horrible because the majority of us know it's true. That is the best we can hope for. It must be so horrible for a mentor, having to meet two innocent children, knowing that in a few weeks; at least one will be dead. But still, it's worse to be a tribute.

"But we can help make sure that they'll get lots of sponsors to help them survive for as long as possible." Finishes Skylar.

"Yes!" exclaims Effie, suddenly back on track, "we need to make sure that you win over the crowd at the opening ceremonies!"

"They look good enough." Says Skylar, "apart from those bruises."

"Oh, I wouldn't say that." Says Finnick quietly. When our heads turn to him in confusion he explains, "The bruises give you an edge. Shows the sponsors that you're here to fight."

"You know what, he's right!" cries Effie, the famous smile back on her face. "And as for looks, I'd say they definatly qualify. Haven't seen tributes like them for a while." She gives us a thoughtful stare.

"In fact, let me have a good look at both of you." And she gestures me and Garter to stand up. We both stand there awkwardly, while she circles us, flipping my hair this way and that, tilting our faces to an angle. I exchange a glance with Finnick, and see that he's laughing at the fact that we both look so uncomfortable. He can't really blame us, considering I don't think that I'm pretty, so I don't bother with looks. Of course, Garter thinks he's gorgeous, but he's a boy, so he's not obsessed with looking nice either.

Once she's done, Effie sits back down with a huge smile on her face. "There both gorgeous!" she cries. Garter and I look to the other in disbelief. Garter has been calling me ugly since the day we met, and vice versa, so it's odd to hear the exact opposite being said about us.

"Maybe once Havens through with them we'll have the best looking tributes this year!" says Skylar with a smile. This Havens person must be my stylist.

"Unless I'm standing next to them of course." Says Finnick with a wink at me. I wish he'd stop doing that; the feeling in my tummy I get every time is enough to bring up my dinner. The table laughs at his joke, (completely forgetting the argument that's just happened.) me straining my mouth to curl up into a smile. There's the Finnick we all know and love.

But of course we're not laughing while we watch the reapings. It's horrible, having to watch other kids, some younger than me, suffer the same shock I did, and realising that all of these people have to die if you want to live. The careers look nervous, but that's nothing to how the others are. I see that no one volunteers this year, not even district 2 citizens. I guess last year's arena (a bleak murky place with poisonous air, vicious rabid animals, and nothing to drink except the water from the swamp, which you would either fall into or be dragged in by the mutated fish within It.) put them off.

I try to remember the tributes faces, as they walk up to the stages covered in ribbons, sizing each one up to see who will be my biggest opponent. I know I don't stand a chance in these games, but there's no point in not trying:

The tributes from 1&2 are tall and deadly looking: the girls seem sly and conniving, and the boy's seem huge beefy monsters. The boy from 3 is also tall, but lanky, so he looks as if a simple flick could snap him in two. The girl from 3 has blonde hair and freckles, and is a little on the chubby side, but all of that is hidden behind the fact that she looks absolutely petrified. No, that's putting it mildly. She's clinging onto her friends, screaming and wailing, so the peacekeepers have to practically drag her to the stage.

Then district 4 comes up. You see me trip, which would usually get a little laugh from the commentators, but I doubt they've got so much as a chuckle left from their hysterics at the blonde girl. They do spend a lot of time talking about my father though, and the scene of him struggling to get to me is replayed again and again. Once it's over, I look down into my hands to see that I've turned my napkin into shreds. I wonder how my father will react to this. Hopefully someone will have enough empathy to comfort him, since my mother obviously won't.

You see Garter walking up with a smirk, and then that's it. The last I'll see of District 4.

In district 5, the girl is shaking, the boy squeaking. 6 is bad. There's a 16 year old boy, but there's also a 12 year old girl. I hear the crowd groan, and agree with them. It's unfair, they aren't even teenagers yet, and they still have to play these games. Surprisingly though, the girl seems the least scared. She's walking to the stage, keeping her strides big to stop her knee's from knocking, her fist clenched. I hear Effie tut.

The other tributes flash past me, apart from a beefy boy with dark skin from 9, and a girl with red hair who bursts into tears in 11.

But it's 12 that's horrible. I know that both tributes will die, but that's not what shocks me. The girl who's picked is 17, but is crying, but that's not what shocks me. The boy who's picked is only 14, but that's not what shocks me.

What shocks me is the fact that the boy who is picked is mentally disabled. The commenters say that he has the mental age of 7.

7. He's been placed in these games and he's only 7.

The crowd goes crazy at the horror of it all. The boy is smiling, and I don't think he even knows what's going on, which makes the whole thing worse. I look around the train compartment and see Skylar looking horrified; Effie's near tears. And yet Finnick's expression is unreadable. Apart from his eyes. There's something in them, something that scares me. Fire.

There's something else too. A sense of….relation. Like he's been there before. I don't know how he has; it's not very likely that he's had a "night" with a mad person. Not when he's got those rich, famous capitol citizens begging at his feet.

While the screen shows the Peacekeeper's attempt to calm the crowd-which isn't hard, since 12 is such a small district-I think about the whole situation with my mouth open in shock. The brutality of it. The _in-humanity_ of it. Just a few doors from me, is the poor boy. Does his still not know what's going on? Will he still have that smile on his face at the thought of going to the capitol? The thought that soon the smile will be wiped off his face with a knife, is enough to reduce me to tears.

I'm not hungry anymore. All I know is that I have to get out of here. I don't want to look at this boy. It's sick. I jump up, knocking my drink over again, and run from the room, not hearing the worried cries of my name behind me.

I get into my compartment, lay face down on my pillow, which will muffle my voice, and scream. I'm not just a part of the games anymore. I'm a part of this sick, twisted world where innocent 7 year olds are being punished by death for what our ancestors did. Why doesn't the President do something about this? He certainly has the authority to. Does he not care at all about this boy? Or is he just as sick and as twisted as Panem? Wait, what am I saying? He must be. He rules it.

The room goes fuzzy; the train suddenly feels crowded, filled with tributes and obnoxious Capitol citizens. The room makes me dizzy. All everything does is remind me of the Capitol, on how all of us but one are going to die. And of course the victor won't be the district 12 boy.

Effie taps on my door, but I cry at her to leave me alone. I put my hands over my ears trying to block out her voice, and the sound of the train that's taking me to my doom. But the walls seem to be closing in on me. I'm going mad, and I don't care. Mad people don't get special treatment; I've just seen proof of that.

I finally fall asleep, but the boy from 12 haunts my nightmares, so when I wake up in the dead of night, I'm sweating and shaking. I then realise that we've stopped. Why? Are we there already? Surely not, I can't see any buildings through the window. I realise that I have to get out. All I know now is that I need to get off this train, and _now._

I jump out of the bed, with my clothes still on, and run from my compartment. There are people in the corridor, whispering about running out of fuel. This will give me enough time.

And before you ask, I'm not making a break for it, I just need some air, and I need to get off this train, even if it's just for a minute. I wouldn't get far anyway; I'm in my slippers for crying out loud. I just need to get away from the people I'm going to have to kill if I want to survive.

I push past everyone, ignoring their instructions to get back to bed. I feel people pulling my arm, pushing me back, hear them calling guards, but they just blur past me, _everything_ blurs past me, the windows, the paintings, the doors as I make my way to the exit. The train is becoming stuffy with all this movement, but it just makes me want to get out of here more. "Need some air." I mumble. This calms people down, but doesn't stop them from calling the guards.

I reach the exit, pull it open, and leap outside. The cool air hits me immediately and the sky is pitch black and filled with twinkling stars. I can see the candy coloured buildings of the Capitol, but they're just a tiny speck of dust in the horizon. Apart from that there's nothing I can see but trees filled with ripe fruit, and grass which reaches up to my knees. I step onto the bit where it hasn't grown as much, and it's dewy underneath my feet.

I sense someone jumping off behind me, and I know it's a guard to haul me back inside. But I don't mind, I've only been out here a few seconds and I'm already relaxed and feeling better. As I feel a hand grasp my arm, I see a patch of dandelions, and know that things are going to be ok. Well, as ok as things can get. As I'm being pulled to the train, I hear a noise over the sound of the crickets a few yards away, and turn to look.

It's a boy who looks a little older than me, with floppy brown hair and eyes, who's also being pulled back inside. He doesn't look wildly dressed so I'm guessing that he must be a tribute, although I can't remember which district he's from. I wonder if he's feeling the same way I am.

Just before I'm tugged onto the train, the boy turns and catches my eye. And he gives me a tiny smile.

* * *

><p>Sorry I took forever to write this chapter! But this chapters a lot longer than the other two, so hopefully that will make up for it!<p>

Btw, sorry if I've made any mistakes :s So anyway...we've finally met Jed! YAY! oh, and another note: even though Paylor doesn't like Finnick, don't get the wrong message. I LOVE Finnick, he's actually my favourite character, apart from Thresh. Anyway, the next chapter will be in about a week or two, becuase i've been really busy lately, so stay tuned! it's about to get a lot more exciting! So please read and review, and share this story with your friends! :3

Love Lucy


	4. Chapter 4: Feeling Pretty

It's 7am when I hear Skylar calling me through my door to get up. I replay the sound of her voice in my head, and I'm sure I heard screams which sounded the same last night. Thinking that I must be mistaken, I put the thought out of my mind, as I sit up and rub my eyes. The sun is shining, the sky blue, and the Capitol buildings bright as ever. So I guess we're here. I would usually be happy to wake to such a nice day. But now that I'm a tribute, every day I wake up is a day closer to my death.

I get up out of my bed with ease, feeling awake even with my restless night. I've heard that to the Capitol citizens, getting up before noon is humanly impossible, but for me 7am is actually a sleep in. I usually wake at 6, sometimes 5.30, just so I can watch the sun rise. Maybe watching the sun rise in the arena will be the only thing I can hang on to.

Apart from my charm bracelet, I remind myself, and pick it up from the bed side table and re-fasten it around my wrist. The locket has popped open, so I catch a glimpse of Mantis before I snap it shut. I don't want to start crying again. I change into a simple t-shirt and trousers, don't bother to brush my hair (not that it would make a difference anyway.) and go to breakfast, which we're having before we go to our prep teams. I walk into the compartment and grin as widely as I can. I am going to be making sure that I'm the one making jokes this conversation, not Finnick. I don't feel in the least bit jokey, but I'm determined to seem at least a little bit like myself again.

I sit down; exchange glares with Garter, and begin to eat some toast, doing my best not to spill any crumbs like I usually do. I seem to be shaking though, which doesn't help. It's not until I'm on my third slice when I notice that every ones staring at me.

"Erm…..what?" I say to them, looking back in confusion.

"Oh nothing," says Skylar, tucking into some yogurt. She seems to look even more tired than usual, and she's as white as sheet. Nobody else seems to question it though, so I don't. "Good night last night?"

"It was so-so." I say. This isn't lying, but it's not the complete truth either. I just hope they don't know about me running off last night. "Yours?"

"Pretty good," begins Finnick in his usually purr, pouring himself some coffee, "but, I want to tell you the _strangest_ thing that happened last night. You see, I decided to stay up a little bit and watch some TV, but just when I was beginning to drift off, I heard the _funniest noises_."

"Oh…..did you?" I ask. A little too innocently.

Finnick smiles. "Yes, I don't know if it was just because I was tired, but I could have_ sworn_ that I heard someone trying to get off the train." Garter smirks.

I feel my face going red, which is weird, considering I'm usually good at making stuff up. I don't know, maybe it's because I know that Finnick can see right through me. I just hope the others can't. So I look into my plate while still trying to keep the lies up. "Well, that person must have been out of there mind." I mumble.

"Yes," says Skylar, returning the smirk back to Garter, "Because everyone _knows _that there are hundreds of guards on this train, so trying to run off would be impossible."

I decide to try to keep eye contact, but it's getting really hard, plus there are so many eyes to contact with. "Well, maybe they weren't trying to run off, maybe they just needed some air." I say defensively.

"Yeah, maybe," continues Finnick, "but they're still pretty stupid." I don't reply. "I thought I had imagined it at first, but then, when I got up this morning, it turns out that people were saying the _exact same thing_!" of course, why do I even bother? They're like birds, repeating each other's melody. Obviously my little adventure has been _twittering_ around the train all morning.

"Oh….really?" I say shakily. I know the game is up, I can practically hear the sarcasm in Finnick's voice, but I can't bring myself to confess. "What were they saying?"

"Rumours were flying all through the compartments! They were saying that a tribute girl with reddish hair was running to the door from district 4's compartment!" he says in mock shock, "Imagine that! Now, I wonder who that might be."

Again, I don't say anything.

"Paylor…."

"Alright, alright, I had to get off the train!" I cry, finally giving up. "I couldn't stand it on there a minute longer!"

They all laugh in triumph, and I glare at them, "you know, I'm going to die soon so the least you could do is not gang up on me!" I say indignantly. This at least makes Finnick stop laughing.

"I don't see what the big deal is anyway;" I say moodily, "I only needed some air."

"The deal is, that it seemed like you were running away, and that won't exactly go down well with the Gamemakers." Garter is grinning with glee, clearly enjoying me being told off.

"You could get in trouble!" says Skylar with concern. Right. Because being in a game where I'll most likely lose my life in some horribly painful, bloody way isn't already trouble.

"Never mind that, she _is_ in trouble!" scolds Finnick, "the Gamemakers aren't going to be pleased about this! Besides, cowards don't become favourites with the sponsors."

I scowl. "I am _not_ a coward."

"Says the girl who was afraid of the dark until she was twelve." Snubs Garter. If looks could kill.

Skylar becomes tense, thinking that another argument is about to start up, but we're interrupted by Effie coming in. She's tired, her wig not attached properly, her makeup smudged, and she's yawning a lot. "How you're all able to get up so early, I don't know." She moans, sitting down. She manages to smile sleepily and says, "So anyway, sleep well?"

"Mm" we all mumble. We don't bother telling Effie about my little escape last night. And, truth be told, I did sleep quite once I'd been locked into my compartment. There were no nightmares, (which I get quite a lot.) only odd dreams which included arrows, knives and mist, and a pair of dark brown eyes and floppy hair. This suddenly jogs my memory. That boy from last night! I sit up like a flash and ask Effie:

"Effie, do any of the boy tributes this year have dark floppy hair?" I say indifferently, trying not to seem suspicious. I know that if there is one, she'll know about it. Effie frequently tells anyone who has a pair of ears that if there's anything to know about, she knows it. She's like my mother. Who I probably shouldn't be thinking about at a time like this.

Skylar looks curious and Finnick raises his eyebrows, but both don't bother to question it. "Yes I think there is!" Effie exclaims, happy that she's finally able to help out, which we've been seeing a lack of so far. "Erm…let me think….there's the boy from 3, and I know that the boy from 6 has floppy hair…oh wait but he's blonde…and I think there's another boy…from 8 I think."

"Which one would you say is just a little bit older than me?" I ask.

"Erm, I think that would be the boy from 8." She says. She then looks at me quizzically. "Why do you ask?"

"Oh, erm…..no reason." I say quickly. So the boy last night is from District 8. "Just… trying to remember all the details of my components."

"Well it's good that you're thinking about things already!" says Effie with a smile, giving me a pat on the back. "So anyway, it's a big, big day! Opening ceremonies tonight! Time to wow the crowd!" I'm not in the least able to WOW anybody, but Garter and I act like we're excited. Well, technically,_ I_ act excited. I know that any chance for Garter to show off _is_ exciting for him.

"Well, that night sleep must have done you good." Says Skylar, tilting our heads to see them properly. "No dark circles or anything."

"Yeah, I don't think the prep team will have much work cut out for them making them into beauty base zero." Trills Effie. I wonder what that is.

"Apart from," begins Finnick, and he starts to pull my skirt up. My arm immediately jerks to slap his hand away, suddenly scared that he's taking his flirting a bit too far. But I stop myself when I see that he's only pulled the hem to just below my knee, so only my calf is showing. "This leg hair. But yes, the rest of you is looking hot." I feel embarrassed with everyone staring at my legs, so I change my mind again and slap his hand away. He sits back in his chair, grinning. "Don't worry though, the prep team will sot that out."

"They'd better," snarls Garter. "Or else she'd look like a monkey."

"Oh," I say mock innocently, "you mean like you do with that stubble?" Garter clenches his fists, but knows better than to start another argument.

"Well, hair won't be a problem for either of you." Says Effie, "let's just hope that the other tributes haven't had any sleep, and look terrible."

I immediately get an idea for a joke, and grasp the situation before it's gone. "I'm sure the district 7 tributes won't though." I say. When everyone looks at me quizzically I exclaim the punch line with a huge fake grin on my face. "They must have slept like LOGS!" I look at them, expecting them to laugh, but they just stare at me with one eyebrow raised. "You know…. Logs?" I say more quietly, making sure that they understand the joke, "district 7…lumber…. trees?"

"Yeah, we got it." says Garter, "it just wasn't funny." Mantis would have laughed. No wait, I'm thinking about home again. I've got to stop doing that.

"Yeah, I think from now on, I'll be the only one telling jokes." Says Finnick as kindly as he can, though there's a trace of a smirk on his lips. I scowl. So much for trying to be myself. Wait, why am I looking at his lips? I quickly turn my head to the bowl of fruit.

Once we've finished breakfast, which was filled with an awkward silence mixed with Effie's failed attempts to make conversation, we're quickly escorted to the exit of the train. People whisper as I pass them, obviously hearing about my running off last night. All I can hear coming from them is twitter, twitter, cheep, cheep. They _do _sound like birds. A pack of jabberjays to be exact. Repeating everyone's word, the gossip flying through the train. That's all the Capitol seems to care about, gossip. Oh, and ridiculous fashion. Not the fact that 23 children are dying bloody deaths every year and it's _their_ fault. But I guess if they were smart enough to realise that by now, the games wouldn't still be going on. And I wouldn't be going to die.

The view from the opened door is absolutely breath taking. My mouth falls open and even Garter gasps a little in delight. Everything is brightly coloured, it looks like something out of a story book. It's confuses me, to think that such a beautiful place could be so full of evil. There are flying devises all over the sky, and people walking their bright yellow poodles along the street dressed so bizarrely I almost laugh out loud. Almost.

Even though I'm now closer to the Capitol, I'm feeling quite relieved to be off the train. At least now I won't be as close to the poor boy from 12. But as soon as the doors closed behind me, I suddenly remember. I've left the dress I wore on reaping day! I've left it behind! Oh no, my father worked for weeks to buy me that! I'll just have to tell Finnick how special that dress is to me, so he'll get it back for me. I remember when father came home with it like it was yesterday:

It had been a cold, wet day that day, a few weeks before the reaping. I was just walking home from another day of fishing. This time I was so excited; I had actually been able to catch one. True, it had been a big one, and it had practically _swum_ into my net, but I had caught it none the less. I hadn't been allowed a bucket; those were only for the people who had caught loads of them, so I'd had to carry the fish with my bare hands. My palms and fingers _reeked_, and I was struggling to carry my spear under my arm, and to keep the net from falling off my neck, but I was smiling from ear to ear. It had been a month since I caught one, and father had seemed to be getting worse at fishing. I didn't know if it was his age, or it was the time of the year when not as many fish came, but we'd been eating a lot less meat lately. Enough to survive on, of course, we were nearly content after every meal, but usually father came home with masses of fish, now only 1 or 2.

So of course the responsibility had fallen onto to me to keep the family full, even though we were doing just fine. Mother had always been a bit of a pig. I remembered that mother had said:

"Oh dear, your fathers not getting much better, is he?" one day when he had come home with half a fish. "He's probably just being stupid. Probably where you get it from!" she gave a little laugh, and I tried to laugh along, even though my feelings were hurt. "Oh, I'm just teasing darling," she said, running her fingers through her hair. She then cupped my face with her hand. "But seriously, honey I think it's time that you stopped messing around with your fishing and learn to do it properly."

"I _do_ do it properly." I said with a scowl. I had been trying my best hadn't I? Going to the beach to practise every day, having to face the jeers, the laughter, and of course Garter and Shiya.

"Yes well then do it properly _better_." Sighed my mother. "I'm beginning to die of hunger, you know that." Yes, she must have been _starving_ from those_ 2_ fish she had for dinner that night-plus half of father's and mine. _We_ were the ones who went to bed with rumbling stomachs that night, not her, because I had yet again failed to come home with a single scale of a fish.

"Well then why don't_ you_ try coming home with a fish one day?" I had dared to say.

Mother scoffed a little at my cheek, but then said in the snobbiest voice she could muster, "You know I have no time for that fishing. Its slaves work." Yeah, no time at all because your too busy stuffing your face with chocolates and spending our hard earned money at the market while father and I work our butts off. Too busy making fun of everyone else, apart from Garter and Shiya. To busy complaining, flirting with other guys, and trying to put me down. She never seemed to mind the fact that _Garter_ never volunteered for the reaping. And as for slaves work, weren't we all slaves? Slaving away, making things for the Capitol, having no say in the way Panem was run and being I forced to sacrifice our children for their entertainment?

But I had worked hard every day, doing my best. I could weave a net easily, but killing the fish was another thing entirely. I could never manage to hit the thing with the spear. Someone would usually make a sarcastic comment which made me nervous, making me do even worse. And as soon as the spike hit the water about a metre away from it, the ripples would scare it away, leaving me with an empty stomach for the night yet again.

So you could see why I was so excited to have caught one. And the fact that it was big was even better, because our stomachs would be fuller. So I was practically skipping through the town centre and smiling at anyone who came across my path, ignoring the pains in my leg where the spear would scratch it.

"That's a good looking fish," said the fish monger, walking up to me. "Fancy trading?" I considered this, knowing that the fish monger had been getting less money every day. And he was a lovable, sweet man, a little bit older than thirty but still with a boyish grin. Plus he was generally the only person who seemed fond of me, apart from Mantis and father. Sometimes when my father was busy, I would go to the fish mongers for him and I'd spend about an hour there chatting with him. Only when his girlfriend wasn't around, though. She was a bit of a trouble maker and always tried to rip me off.

But I needed the fish, and nowadays he never seemed to have enough to trade back. So I told him "sorry but no thanks." And walked away feeling a bit guilty, after a little small talk which we'd both had to cut off because he was worried that if I stayed outside any longer I would get pneumonia.

I was nearly home and so soaked my grey shirt was almost see through, when I bumped into Mantis. As soon as he made contact with me he started sniffing, a look of disgust appearing on his face. "Ew, you _stink_. But wait, that means…..hey, you caught a fish!" he exclaimed in delight, pointing at the slimy thing in my hand.

I raised my eyebrows as we passed the justice building. "You don't have to act _that_ surprised." It was alright for him, he could fish just fine. He had tried to teach me once, but gave up after weeks of failure. Same as my father.

"Ok, ok, I'm sorry." He grinned, raising his hands into the air. I stuck my tongue out at him, and he stuck his middle finger up back at me, but it was only a few seconds before we started joking around again. Mantis had taken the fish from me, and had made his mouth move up and down, and had begun shoving it up into my face, making it say, "kiss me, Paylor" in the silliest voice he could muster. (Which didn't seem that different than the Capitol one.) I had started squealing and shouted at him, "Ew no, get it away from me!" but even though I was trying to stay serious, but couldn't help laughing. He was just offering to carry my spear for me when Garter and Shiya appeared across the street, hand in hand.

"Umm, do you want to take the other route?" whispered Mantis. I knew he was doing it for my sake, which I couldn't help being grateful for, so I could respect the fact that I knew that part of the reason he wanted us to move was so Shiya wouldn't spot him smelling of fish.

"You bet." I hissed back, but as we began to sneak onto the other path, Garter spotted us.

"Finally managed to catch a fish, eh?" he smirked at me. "Well, apart from the one standing next to you." Shiya screamed in laughter and I saw Mantis' face give a little sigh. I wanted to give his face a little slap for being so hurt by her. I knew I did, but I hated them all, unlike Mantis. I always felt so awkward when he took these things to heart. Why did he like her? She's a stuck up, horrible *****. He could do so much better than her, I knew he could. But still, he was my friend; it was my job to make him feel better. To have his back. So I plucked up my courage, and snarled:

"Better than having a squid beside me." This wasn't much of an insult, but as I saw Garter's face turn red, I regretted it a second later. He began charging at us, Shiya laughing in the rear. Mantis and I both screamed, and we ran for our lives. We slipped and slid through the streets, some people laughing, others trying to get Garter to stop. Luckily with all that meat on him, Garter wasn't very fast, so we were able to manage to get home before he reached us.

"See you later!" Mantis cried as we reached the place where the path to our homes separated. We didn't stop, we didn't even look back as we sprinted to our houses, but I made sure to call back:

"If I don't die today!" I knew that this could become true if I didn't get home in the next 2 minutes, but I could have sworn I heard Mantis laughing.

I ran into my house like a shot and slammed the door behind me, panting. The house was pretty warm and smelled of freshly baked bread, so I felt relaxed and safe. "Mother?" I called. She was usually at the market this time, or watching the kids fish, but since the weather was dreary, she probably stayed inside all day, not wanting to ruin her hair.

"In here darling!" I heard her call from the living room. I walked in to see her keeping her feet warm by the small fire. On cold nights like that we wished that we were in district 12. They may have been a small district but they definatly had enough coal to keep them from getting cold. Mother turned away from the TV and squealed when she saw me carrying a fish. "Oh hunny I'm so proud of you!" she cried, bounding up and cupping my face in her hands. "Obviously not as many as Garter, but oh well…" I quickly pulled my face out of her grip and sat down on the sofa. "Don't sit on there!" she gasped, "you'll make it smell like fish! Go put it in the kitchen and take a shower." Scowling and rolling my, I did what I was told. "Oh, and do stop scowling like that." Mother had snapped.

While I was drying myself I heard my father come in. I heard him and mother kiss and hug hello, and then him calling, "Paylor?"

"Coming!" I called back, and quickly shoved on my clothes and ran downstairs. He was there with a big, mysterious smile on his face and his hands behind his back, and mother was struggling to see what was in them. It was surprising because usually he would have done what she wanted by now, but this time he was staying stubborn. I wondered what was behind his back.

After giving up, she said in exasperation: "sweet heart, you'll never guess what! Zara caught a fish today!" I began to correct her as I usually did whenever she called me Zara, but let it go after father picked me up and swung me round out of proudness. "So," mother continued, "how was your day?"

"Great!" exclaimed father, sitting down, still hiding what he was holding in his hands. "I caught around 10 fish today! "Mother squealed in delight again and hugged him. I smiled, and couldn't help feeling relieved. Finally, father was back on track. We wouldn't go to bed hungry anymore. I was a little bit sick of feeling like a district 12 citizen every day.

"So, where are they?" asked mother, and I started to think the same thing. He couldn't hide that amount of fish behind his back so easily. So then what_ was_ he hiding?

"Oh, I sold them." He said, still smiling.

Mothers and my reactions were for once, the exact same. "YOU DID _WHAT_!"

"Sold them." He said. "Just like I've been selling all our fish over the past month."

"But...But…but why?" shrieked my mother, going red in the face. It was strange, because for the first time, father didn't look scared.

"To save up for this." He said, and pulled out the thing behind him. I gasped.

It was a dress. I wasn't a tomboy, but at first I was thinking that dresses weren't really my thing. But this was not just any dress. It was a _beautiful _one, with gold embroidery, a floaty skirt with cotton underneath it, and sleeves made of silk. Every ripple it made bounced light off it, and the sea blue was the most tranquilizing thing I had ever seen. The real gold buttons made me realise how much it would have cost. And it was in my size. This dress, the dress that a princess would wear, was for me.

All my surroundings just vanished, my mother, my father, my home. I was captivated by this dress, and I wasn't able to imagine that I would soon be wearing it. But all of that came crashing down when my mother scorned, "why one _earth_ did you get her that?"

"For the reaping." He said, "I want her to feel like a princess." I stayed silent.

"You mean we've starved for a whole month, just for a _dress_!" cried my mother. That was a cheek. Doesn't she mean that _me and father_ starved, not her? "She'll muck it up, I should at _least_ be the one wearing it-"

"No." said my father. "I want Zara to wear It." again, I stayed silent, and watched while my mother stormed from the room. Father looked at me, trying to read my emotions. When he saw that my expression wasn't changing, his face fell. "You don't like it, do you?" again, I couldn't say anything. The only thing I could do is run and hug him so hard that I nearly knocked him off his feet. I was so grateful I couldn't put it into words. It wasn't just that he'd bought it for me. It was that he gave up his food to buy me this. Whenever mother had taken some of my food, father would sneak some of his onto my plate, leaving him with even less. He went hungry every night, worked hard every day, just to see me wearing that dress.

I finally managed to get my mouth to say, "I _love_ it, thank you." Father smiled, and kissed the top of my head gently. We hugged for ages, until I said, "can I wear it now?"

"Afraid not." He said, "Your mother would go ballistic." But I so wanted to wear that dress. To see what I looked in it. To see if I really looked like a princess. Thankfully father was the easiest to wear down, so after seeing my pleading face, he sighed. "Go on then." he said. "But just for a minute." He warned, pointing his finger in my face. I nodded, grinning.

I slipped it on, feeling the silk sliding effortlessly over my arms. While fastening the buttons, the gold blinded me slightly, and the hem fell to a little bit below my knees. Father came back in once I was changed, and pulled my hair out of the ponytail, so it hung loosely down my back. "There," said father with a smile, "you look just like a real princess now." And he opened the cupboard so I could see myself in the mirror that's on the inside of the door.

I gasped again. The gold and blue matched my hair and eye colour perfectly. The material fitted me perfectly, and felt as light as air. For the first time in my life, I'd actually felt pretty. I was a real princess. "Wow." Is all I could say.

I kept it on for much longer than a minute. I twirled around and around while my father clapped and cheered. We turned the TV on, and danced to the capitol anthem. (Well technically, _he _danced; I'd never been that good at dancing, so he lifted me onto his feet while he moved across the room.) We pretended that he was the king and I was a princess, that he was a goblin and I was a fairy. Not very mature games for a 15 year old, but I'd felt so happy I didn't care. I didn't take the dress of until late at night when mother had come downstairs and shrieked at me to change out of the dress _immediately_, before I ruined it.

I didn't wear the dress until reaping day, just as father had asked, but I had kept it hidden in its box in the back of my wardrobe. I opened the box occasionally just to look at it, and whenever father went away on his long fishing trips I would take the dress out and hug it, running the silk between my fingers, so it felt like a part of my father was there. Whenever I thought of the dress, I always knew how much my father loved me, and how much I loved him.

And it's still inside my compartment. But instead of asking Finnick, which I've realised, that there won't be time for, I rush to the door, and try to pull it open to get inside. But unlike last time, everyone is ready for it. Finnick immediately grabs me around the waist and pulls me away. I struggle a bit, screaming, "Let me back inside!"

"I can't, babe, we have to go, we're running late already!"

"But my dress is on there!" I cry, still struggling. I have to get on that train. But Finnick's more than 5 years older than me, and strong.

"Then we'll get you another dress!" he says in exasperation. "The stylists have got a whole _bunch_ of dresses!"

"Yes Paylor, do stop this!" hisses Effie disapprovingly. "We have to go before reporters start milling around!"

"But you don't understand!" I say desperately, "my dad gave it to me! He worked for weeks an-"

I can see that Finnick's getting tired, he's red in the face, but he doesn't stop trying to hold me back. "It doesn't matter anyway, Paylor!" he cries, "the doors are locked, and the trains leaving!"

"NO!" I cry. But he's right; the train has turned back on to full power, and is pulling out of the station, my dress with it. There's yet another part of home, gone. Does the Capitol want to take everything from me?

I immediately go limp, and let Finnick pull me along with the others. Once we've arrived outside the training centre, Garter doesn't hesitate to say, "You're a right weirdo Paylor, you know that? When you're on the train, you want to get off, and once you're on the train, you want to get back on again!" Because I've given up, Finnick's loosened his grip on me, so I immediately take the opportunity to shove him off me and storm into the building. I don't fail to hear Finnick's voice behind me:

"Girls."

"Ooh, these two are absolutely gorgeous!" exclaims one of my stylists in the silly Capitol accent to me, Garter, Finnick and Effie. She then looks at Garter and I. "and these new tributes don't look so bad themselves!" she and Effie burst in to peals of laughter, Finnick gives a chuckle, and I do my best to give a good natured titter.

After she's finished howling so much that her midnight blue wig has nearly fallen off her head, Effie says, "But you have to admit they look nice, don't you…..erm…"

"The names Cassandra darling, and yes, I must say we got a good batch this year!" she says, fixing her own hair before flipping mine this way and that. It's getting quite irritating; the way people are seeming to treat me like I'm a doll, a slab of meat, and not an actual person with feelings. But I guess if they're throwing us into an arena to fight to the death, they've pretty much forgotten that we're humans.

"They may be the only ones that might look like humans when we're done with them!" cries Cassandra, confirming my suspicions, and more hysterics follow that. Cassandras laugh is long and very high pitched, so my ears are ringing when she and Effie have calmed down.

"You're so funny! We really should talk over coffee!" says Effie, and they start babbling out dates and times and different types of coffee. Way to rub it in the people's faces who don't even _have_ coffee.

"Well, I'm afraid that you have to go talk to the gamemakers now, Effie." Says Finnick. He then turns to Cassandra, wetting his lips slightly, and seductively purrs, "But you and I can." Cassandra starts giggling while the hairs on the back of my neck stand up, and she's talking like crazy to him. I see the way she looks at him. Like it's love at first sight. Doesn't she know that that doesn't exist? And she's dopey not to realise that she's nothing special. There isn't a girl out there that he hasn't "had a coffee with."

After much giggling and flirting, Cassandra finally takes me to my prep room, which is a room not unlike the justice building back home, with white tiles on the wall, but has blue tiles on the floor and thin curtains hang everywhere I look. This is where the team are going to make me presentable enough to win sponsors. We come into the room to find two capitol people chatting vividly over coffee. There's a man who doesn't look much older than 20, with his eyebrows tattooed on and his lime green hair which is nearly as tall as the ceiling; and a woman with magenta hair who looks about 50 but you can see she's desperately trying to look younger. Her skin is a pale purple and her eyes seem to have gold contacts in them which spit out glitter every time she blinks. Cassandra's not much better, with tattoos that look like stickers all over her body and her teeth died red.

After a lot of squealing and introducing, (Which includes me making up constant lies about how they look _fabulous_, and that I love their shoes _so much_, which they seem to lap up.) Cassandra sits me down and helps me take my clothes off and dress into a thin gown. I feel very exposed and vulnerable, but tell myself to relax. These people see the tributes naked every year; I've got nothing to be embarrassed about. After a quick inspection, Cassandra says officially, "Pixie, the strips." The woman, who must be Pixie, nods, and opens some draws until she finds a packet of white strips. I'm clueless about what they are, until Cassandra says, "and Jaffa, get the wax." THE WAX? Jaffa and Pixie begin slopping wax onto the strips and before I can stop the, they slap one strip onto my left leg.

"Wait! What are you doing?" I shriek in protest.

Jaffa sighs. "We need to get rid of all that hair darling. You're pretty, but not _perfect_. We're here to make that happen."

"Yes, it'll all be worth it," says Pixie soothingly, except that it doesn't seem that soothing with that stupid accent of hers. "We promise!" but I don't want my leg hair gone. It's an extra layer of warmth, and my father wouldn't want the games to change me. I know he means personality wise, but having leg hair makes me feel more like….like me. But still, I do want to get sponsors, and usually district four has got the most based on looks. So I grit my teeth, run my hands through the hair one more time, and brace myself for the huge _RIIIP_ that's about to come.

When it does come, it's a lot more painful than I expected. I do my best to stay quiet, but since I'm not very good with pain, it catches me off guard and before I can stop myself I cry, "OW!"

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" squeals Pixie, thinking that she's done something wrong.

"It's ok Pixie, we've just got a bit of a whiner here." Says Jaffa, shaking his head with a chuckle. I glare at him. The whole experience has rubbed me the wrong way already, and it's only been 10 minutes. But it's especially annoying that they keep on calling me pet names, like sugar and sweetie. It's something my mother would do. But remembering father's advice I put on a small smile, but with puppy dog eyes and say self pityingly, "I know, I'm so silly! I'm just sad because I feel so ugly." until they're all won over and are cooing over me. I hate the lot of them, but I want them to be on my side. Despicable, I know.

"Look, hunny, we've got to do this so it'll be easier for you in the arena!" says Cassandra. "I know it's painful, but we have to. Do you want me to hold your hand?" I have to check to see if she's joking, but as I turn to her face I see that she's not mocking me or being patronising, she's generally trying to be nice, but I don't want to be clasping hands with someone who's prettying me up for slaughter. She holds my hand anyway, her long painted nails digging in to my knuckles, but every time that I'm about to try and let go another hunk of hair is ripped of my body so it's all I can do to grip her hand and try not to let a sound escape my lips. With every wince they're sympathetic, but it doesn't stop them ripping more off, until every piece of hair is off my body apart from the thin arched lines which are now my eyebrows and the hair on top of my head.

They let me soak myself in a cool feeling cream until the stinging stops, and then fix my nails and all my imperfections. They don't seem to be even paying attention to me as they whittle away on my body. They're too busy gossiping about this or that, the colour dress they're wearing to a certain someone's party, the person who served bad shrimp last night for dinner, and most importantly, who they think will win this year's games. They mention Garter a lot, and that boy from nine, but never is the person they're making over mentioned. This makes me even more worried.

It isn't until they reach my hair though, when they finally shut up.

"Hmm, what should we do with it?" I hear Jaffa say, as he picks through a few strands.

"Well, Havens said to dye it an individual colour, but I think it's great the way it is." Mumbles Pixie.

"Yes, I think he'll like it," says Cassandra. "Although Tigris would have wanted it full blown orange if she was still here." A few chuckles follow her words. They sound mean and mocking.

"Tigris?" I say, interrupting them. "Who's Tigris?"

"Oh, she was the stylist last year, darling." Explains Cassandra. "Not anymore though." They all give a small giggle.

I rack my brains, and suddenly an image pops into my head. Yes, I remember her now. She was still quite young, with whiskers and stripes. She didn't look ill or anything. "So what happened to her?" I ask, voicing my thoughts.

My prep team exchange glances. "Long story, sugar," says Pixie, "anyway enough chit chat. Let's just tame this mane and see what Haven thinks." They do just that, slopping gloop all over my hair, tugging at it with a hair brush, snipping off a strand here, a strand there, until it finally falls into a smooth straight auburn waterfall down my back.

"There we go, all done." Says Pixie, smiling in triumph. They each give me a kiss on the cheek, (Jaffa seems to hiss at me when he does so.) and they all bumble out of the room, while I sit there, waiting for my stylist. I'm sat waiting for quite a while, but eventually he comes in. and what I see makes me gasp.

Great. The odds are really not in my favour today.

Not that they've ever have been.

* * *

><p>Sorry I've taken so long with this! Ok, I know that not much happens in this chater, but the whole thing with Jed is gonna heat up very soon! So, the next chapter will be here in a week or two, please stay tuned! Oh, and anyone who reviews this story or adds it into their favourites will get a shout out in my next chapter! Anyway, I love you guys! Thanks for so many hits so far! :D<p>

Love Lucy


	5. Chapter 5: First Impressions

**Okay, first of all, before I start, a big thanks to Gizzygirl and gabz1197 for reviewing my story! You really help me keep focused! The reason this is up here and not at the end of the story, it's because I'm typing on my iPod. Which happens to be broken at this point in time. Anyway, on with the story...**

It's _him_.

When Skylar and my prep team had been talking about him, I hadn't realised because I never knew his name. But now that I've seen him, he's flashing up in my memory like a neon light.

Haven Yold: the meanest, most obnoxious stylist in the whole games. And he was my stylist.

The gamemakers must have made a few changes, because the last time the games were on, Haven was happily making fun of-I mean, styling district 11. Not 4. Not me. Why did I have to get the stylist who made his debut by making fun of a 13 year old tribute until she cried? Why did I have to get the stylist that, no matter how pretty you were, always found something to use to knock your self-esteem down. This would be less painful if he was hitting me with a sledge hammer.

"Hello darling." He says, putting on a big smile which didn't reach his eyes. "So, your name's Zara, right?"

"Yeah," I begin, "but actually I prefer it when people cal-"

"Zara's fine." He snaps, but still with a smile.

"Oh." I say, taken a bit aback. "Um, ok."

"So let's have a look at you!" he cries. But I want to have a look at him. Even though I'd seen him plenty of times before, being right next to him is so weird. I can't stop staring. I'd seen crazy fashion before, but this was something else entirely. His eyes seem to be blood red, so it looks like blood was seeping from them whenever he blinks. His clothes seem to be sewn on. Sewn on! I almost ask him if it's possible to take a shower, but it must be. Why else would he reek of oranges? His shoulder-length poker straight hair, and it is…..is…..well, the colour of it is impossible to tell, but in a way it's…..it's _see through_. And worst of all, are the grotesque shapes coming out of his neck. At first I think that they were just some sort of piercing, but as I got a closer look I realise they are nothing like that. They're _gills_.

He smiled when he caught me staring at them, my mouth popping open a little bit. "I had them made especially for styling district 4 this year. They're the height of fashion, don't you agree?"

I prefer to think of them as the height of _disgusting_, but I'm smart enough to realise that if you cut Haven, he'll cut you back, and cut you back harder. "I err, well-"

"But of course, you wouldn't know what fashion was even if it hit you on the nose." He says absent mindedly while examining my neck and face. "Just another disadvantage of living in a district." He's just proved my point. And I'm guessing that _his_ version of disadvantage doesn't mean the starvation, whipping, torture, and having our children sacrificed for entertainment. Or maybe he does, and he's just mocking us all for it. I realise that how you look isn't the only thing he's despicable about.

He begins examining me, not even carefully; he's literally throwing my arms and legs about. He makes slight tuts at every pause, which not only gives me an awkward twitch but also makes me feel like everything's wrong with me. I've never been bothered of self-conscious with my body but now I want to throw on my gown and wrap it around every inch of my skin.

"Well," he says, "You don't make me want to vomit, thanks to the prep team, but there are definatly something's that we need to work around. But of course, my designs are so amazing they'd make an elephant look fabulous." He pauses and gives me a smile, which sends the hairs on the back of my neck (well, what's left of it after the prep team were through with me.) flying straight up. "Don't you agree?"

"Oh yes, they're simply stunning!" I say with an equally cheesy grin. I want to spit in his face so badly, but I have a paranoid feeling that his eyes might turn into lasers when he gets mad.

"So, anyway," he snaps, acting as if he has paid no attention whatsoever to my opinion, and puts his hand on my shoulders. "Now, I know swimmers are supposed to have flat shoulders, but look at these, they're _men's_ shoulders!" he says to himself, but he's not bothering to keep his voice down. Just ignore him, I think, just ignore him just ignore him just ignore him-

"These arms won't do you much good in the arena." He says, pulling one of them towards him. "They're so flimsy. But oh! I find that the weight from them has reached your thighs!" as he rummages through my hair, making sure to pull it a few times, I have to close my eyes because tears are starting to appear in them. I automatically blindly feel for my legs, and place my hands on them. Are they really that big? If I get out of the games, I'm never wearing shorts again.

"The hairs ok, I guess." He says indifferently. "But a bit too bright. I wanted slight chestnut, not carrot." I have to take a few quick breaths. My hairs not even that red.

"That's my natural hair colour." I say quietly, sniffing.

He gives a theatrical gasp. "OH MY GOD I'M SO SORRY!" he cries, and gives me a hug. Which would be nice if his voice didn't sound so fake and patronizing that I want to slap him. And besides, what does it matter? He hasn't apologized for everything else he's said. "But don't worry," he says, cupping my face in his hands. "You're lucky to have a genius like me, and I'm not going to stop until you look remotely pretty…..which will probably be a long time." I look into his eyes, which are filled with such coldness and cruelty I wonder if he's related to President Snow. "Mmhm." Is all I can say through gritted teeth, because I know that if I open my mouth screams of pure hatred will come tumbling out. Or painful sobs. Or both.

Once I've calmed down, he takes me to another very room which is able to be filled with two chairs and a table. I know that I'm the last person he wants to sit with, and vice versa, but it's the rules, so we both reluctantly sit down. He presses a button, and out comes all of these dishes. As much as I hate everything about the Capitol, it's seems incredible how that can happen. Almost like magic. I'm about to ask how it works, but as soon as I open my mouth Haven raises his eyebrows, so I quickly snap my mouth shut before he starts snapping at me again.

The food is as extravagant as always, but right now I don't care about it. It makes me shudder to think this, but I know that I have to get on Haven's good side in order to do well in these games. What if he makes me look horrible in an attempt to sabotage me so I'll have no sponsors? But I guess with his interpretation of fashionable, maybe I won't look so good even if he tries to help.

If there's one thing I can't stand, it's two faced people, but this is a matter of life or death. Literally. So I swallow down the sick that's rising in my stomach, and give him a smile. This is low, even for me but I manage to squeak, "I love your hair! Who did it?"

Haven looks at me suspiciously, wondering if I'm being sarcastic, which is what I want to be so badly it hurts. He gives a snobbish sniff. "I did."

"WOW! Really?" I exclaim, shaking with the effort of trying not to laugh or scream. "Well I guess it would have to be you, since its sooo…." I can't think of a word to describe the monstrosity that is his hair, "_dazzling?" _I fake a wishful sigh, "hopefully I'll look just as amazing as you. I know I'm a challenge, but I'm sure you're so talented that I'll look somewhat ok." I want to slap myself, but what else can I do?

Haven tilts his mouth a bit. I'm not sure, but I think he's just about to smile which makes me wonder if I've actually got through to him and have a chance in these games…but instead his throws his head back and gives out a cruel cold laugh. "OH MY GOD YOU ARE PRICELESS!" he smirks at me, "Did you really think that you were the first person to try that? But I have to give you props on your guts!" and with another heap of his laughs all of my hope is gone.

Of course I'm not the only person to try and sweet talk him. I should have known, with him being so big headed. And now that I've tried, he'll put me in some horrible outfit, just to spite me. I'll get no sponsors so if I get hurt in the arena I'll have no chance of survival. My stomach drops, and I sit back in my seat, doing my best to edge as far away from Haven as possible. But he leans in closer, the smell of oranges so strong I'm nearly blinded, and snarls at me, while a few flecks of his spit splatter me in the face:

"Look, hunny, I'm not going to throw my career away just for you. But don't think for a second that you're going to get sponsors just from this. You seem so useless that you'll lose what little you had as soon as you start training. Unlike your little friend Garter. Boy I wish I had him for my muse." I want to shut his mouth somehow, maybe shove in the piece of chicken that I'm holding. These words hurt the most. Not because of him insulting me, or the fact that most of my face is drenched with his saliva that I want to pull back to be sick, but because it seems so familiar. I'm back with my mother again, while she praises Garter and criticises me. I hope so desperately that he's stopped talking, because if he carries on any longer I won't be able to keep my emotions under control, but he doesn't stop. "But don't worry; I'm just doing my job. You may feel that everyone will be upset if you die, but trust me. No one will care. You'll just be another dead tribute. Nothing special." And he sits back while I let his words sink in.

And I know that he's right. If I die, I'll be known for a few weeks, then that's it. Gone. Forgotten. Just another player of the games. I come to realise that I _am_ nothing special. And if you want to stand any chance in these games, you have to be unforgettable. Which I'm the exact opposite of.

As we continue the meal, I attempt to make small talk to try and get anywhere in his good books, but every time Haven just throws it back in my face.

"What's this dish?"

"Caviar. Something that you district fours ought to know, you idiot."

"So what is my outfit like?"

"You'll see, hopefully it'll hide your bizarre figure."

"Erm, nice day."

"Wow. _You're so good at conversation, aren't you_?"

So by the time he begins to work on me, I'm silent and downhearted.

He wipes the spit off my face, blaming it on me. He applies my makeup, working so quickly I can barely catch what he's doing. All I can spot is shades of orange, blue, and something sparkly. You can see he's a natural at this. As soulless as he seems, he really seems to have a passion for his job, almost as if he's finally appreciating me for the chance to dress something up.

He does my hair, curling some loose ends and braiding what all I can say are sticks into it, which I'm not sure what it's to do with my district, but from learning the hard way what happens when you interrupt him, I keep my mouth shut and let him get on with what he's doing.

As he places the dress on me, I let my mind wander. Just outside the window, I see birds flying into the sky. How I wish I could be them; being wild and free, instead of stuck in here with the most stuck up man to walk on earth who's dressing me up for slaughter. For the first time, I allow myself to think of home. I think of how father will be coping. I wonder how happy mother is. But for some reason, I think about Mantis, and what he could be doing. Is he missing me? Well, of course, I'm his best friend. But how much? Is he sobbing his heart out? Is he planning my funeral? Has he already given up hope for me, because, like I said in the justice building, I've pretty much given up hope myself.

No, I correct myself. He'll be fighting hard to keep me alive. Organising some sort of charity event to fund my sponsors. Because I've known Mantis along time, and even though he's afraid of a lot of things, I know that he doesn't give up easily. Same as me.

I suddenly feel ashamed, having accepted my death so quickly. I guess I thought that as soon as I thought that I would die, it would be less painful. But I've just come to realise, while feeling the net sleeves slide across my arms, that it's not just me who will suffer from my death. I don't have many friends, but I've got to win (or die trying.) for Mantis and Father. And mother too, I guess.

I feel Haven smoothing out my skirt, and my mind snaps back into reality. Haven helps me into my shoes, which what I can see so far are sand coloured. He adjusts a part here and there, and then pulls me to a mirror. I'm confused a bit at first, because there's somebody else looking at me from the mirror. I look around a little before common sense snaps back into my head. That girl is _me_.

I'm completely un-recognizable. My hair isn't its usual ratty mess anymore, it's smooth and curly and now that I can see up close, I realise that the "sticks" braided in my hair are miniature spears and tridents. I flick my hair this way and that, and have a chance to see little fish clips in there too before Haven slaps my hand away.

My face seems to shimmer, my eyes glistening out of my lashes, my skin glowing golden. The gems I saw haven putting on me form a pattern on my left cheek bone, which, like the right one, has been defined with the magic of haven's makeup brush. It's a glimmering, blue, green, silver and gold fish. My lips are a pale, light pink, and the golden eye shadow reached up to my eyebrows.

I look down my body, and see that waves have been painted on my arms, and tiny fish painted on my nails. Fingerless netted gloves which reach up past my elbows close themselves around my hands, fastening with a ring with a trident shaped gem on it.

And my dress, oh god my dress, it's…. _magnificent _is the only word I can use to describe it_. _A deep yet clear blue silky material falls form my shoulders to just above my knee, curling over at the bottom to form a sticking out skirt. As I turn this way and that I see why Haven has made it this way. Every ripple the material makes, every time the skirt bounces up and down, it looks….how can I say it…..as if my body is the ocean, and the skirt is the waves. As I continue looking down, I see that the few centimetres of my leg which is before the boots begin are covered in net tights. The boots are knee high, and are the colour of sand.

"You know," says Haven mockingly, "you can close your mouth."

"Oh!" I say, embarrassed, shutting my mouth to stop it from looking gormless. "Er…sorry." But I can't help it. I look beautiful, majestic, as glorious as the sea itself. And nothing like me.

Obviously Haven doesn't feel as delighted as I do. He scans me again, which I wish he wouldn't, as its making me very self-conscious, and gives a sigh. "Hmm, you'll do." I decide to take that as a compliment.

Now that I'm looking the way I am, the pit of despair in my stomach vanishes. For now anyway. I could get some sponsors, right? At the hands of Haven, I look presentable, and hey, lying and performing is what I'm good at. I should be able to win over this crowd. Since there's no one around to answer me, I decide yes, hope isn't lost for me yet. I just hope I get enough sponsors to be able to survive for a couple of days.

Haven leads (or rather, _pushes_.) me towards the chariots. I see Garter coming towards us, a little smirk on his face as his stylist croons over how handsome he's looking. Great, the thing I need is for him to be even cockier. Why didn't _he_ get Haven?

"Okay," says Finnick. "You both look amazing, but that won't help at all unless you get them to like you. So smile." The last thing I want to do is just that, but I manage to curl the corners of my mouth upwards.

Finnick laughs at my attempt. "Try smiling with your mouth closed instead, you'll look less like your grimacing then." He helps me onto the chariot, and warns us both that it moves quite fast, so to hang on to the edge, and wave with only one hand.

"Keep that up, and they're going to love you." Says Effie with a big smile. Skylar only nods.

Now that I'm up a little closer to Garter, I get a good look at him, and vice versa, while we both make sort of hissing noises at each other. He too has waves painted on him, which glows on the thin coat of hair on his arms (which is totally unfair if you ask me, why didn't _he_ get all of his hair waxed off, like I had to?) he has netting wrapped around him, fastened at his hip with a trident shaped broach, which is especially thick in the place that matters, but still leaves him looking half dressed. All of the girl stylists in the room are gawping at him, but I find it a bit repulsive. He reminds me of Finnick. Well, the Finnick that the press make him out to be, not the Finnick that he suddenly seems to be turning into.

Effie is looking at us thoughtfully. "Do you think we should make them hold hands or something?" Garter and I look at each other for a split second. For a moment, we are suddenly united.

We both turn around, and attempt to throw ourselves out of the chariot.

"Okay, okay!" says Finnick sharply, stopping me before my feet leave the ground. He understands that there is no way I'm going to hold his hand. "Well, can you at least look happy about being next to each other?"

"Yes," says Haven. "Would it kill you to smile?"

At his words we both force our cheeks to rise. "Maybe." I say under my breath.

As our mentors and stylists leave, I look around at my competition. Some seem just as good as us, although not the tributes from 10, they're dressed up as giant cows. Maybe I was lucky getting Haven.

My eyes settle on the boy from 12, and I feel myself give a little sigh. He looks excited; fiddling with his costume. I'm not really the cuddly type, only with my father, but I just want to pick him up a give him a hug and whisper that everything's going to be alright for him. But he already thinks that.

The voices of Claudius Templesmith and Caesar Flickerman suddenly boom through the hallway. "Welcome, ladies and gentlemen, to the beginning of the 68th annual hunger games! It's going to be a great show tonight!"

"Oh yes indeed, our tributes have all been glimmered up, and are ready to win your hearts! Say, Claudius my old boy, who do you think is going to go far this year?"

"I have to say I don't know, Caesar, we've got quite a mix this year! That girl who skipped to the stage from one, I think she's definatly going to do some damage!"

We see the girl from one give a little smirk, and the gold from her costume crates tiny mini replicas of her expression.

"_Absolutely_! But, you know, I have a bit of a gut feeling for that girl from 6."

"You mean the 12 year old? I know what you mean, didn't seem scared at all!"

Shee seems petrified now. She obviously has stage fright; she's shaking like crazy. Or maybe that's just me.

What's wrong with me? _You can do this, _I tell myself._ All you have to do is pretend not to despise them. That's lying; it's what your good at! _All I see is Garter staring at me like I'm crazy before the horses pull into a trot and I'm blinded by the flashes and deafened by the cheers.

It's madness. Pure madness. The massive crowd is going crazy, cheering and throwing roses, cheering for me. For me! I can't believe it. And neither can Garter. He's got his best smile on, but you can obviously see that it's annoying him. Now that Skylar and Finnick aren't here, he's making subtle attempts to knock me out of the carriage. But I've got my hands firmly planted onto the railings. No way am I embarrassing myself at such a crucial moment.

I wonder what people back home are thinking, I wonder. Father's probably remembering the dress that I've now lost. Mother will be ecstatic, obviously. I'm not sure how Mantis will be acting though. One things for sure, though- all the girls will be swooning over Garter. Especially Shiya.

Surely she must be feeling a little bit jealous on the fact that I'm dressed up like this and being adored. I know I seem big headed, but it gives me a sort of sick pleasure.

I wave to the crowd. _Act like you love them_, I say in my head, and this time it's not very hard to obey. The bright colours and the cheering are making me feel a bit giddy, or maybe it's just because I'm so scared. I look up at the huge television screen, which is displaying us. As much as I completely _despise_ Garter, I can't help thinking how good we look together.

There are lots of people looking at me- well, they could be looking at Garter but either way it's still in my direction. I catch roses as they're thrown our way, and I can see people opening their booklets to find out our names. I can tell by the looks on their faces that I'm getting sponsors. I'm getting sponsors! Never have I been so relieved; I'm so happy I even blow a kiss to a certain young man, something that I have never done, nor have ever wanted to do in my life. I also manage to dig my elbow into Garter's side while I'm doing so. Maybe I'm starting to enjoy this.

But once we've all lined up, and the President has taken his place at the podium, wearing a plum coloured suit which clashes terribly with his white hair and the read rose in his coat pocket, a sense of dread fills me once more.

"Welcome, tributes! We honour your courage, and your sacrifice." He booms. Th audience gives a little sigh, but I'm suddenly outraged. Yeah right, that would be true if any of us had a say in whether to go or not whatsoever.

"These are the people who show what it means to be loyal to those who have cared for you for all these years." What is he talking about? I clench my fists. It's sickening, and the fact is that it's the _districts_ that provide for the Capitol, not the other way around.

"We hope you enjoy the Capitol, and may the odds be _ever_ in_ your_ favour." He manages to shout out a quick, "HAPPY HUNGER GAMES!" before the screaming starts again, and the tributes are wheeled inside the training centre.

We are immediately swarmed by people. As Finnick helps me down, holding my waist a little too tightly for my liking, other stylists babble out praise and its obvious by the looks other tributes are giving us that we've made an impression. Of course, we weren't the best. District 5 is the one with the most admirers, and I don't blame them, since the tributes had appeared with bright suits that actually glowed. Still, I can't help giving them a jealous glance.

We've both been accepting compliments graciously, but now even Garter's getting worn out. Skylar sees this, and mercifully says, "Okay, now I think it's time we got these kids to their room, they must be starving." There's a murmur of good natured laughter, and goodbyes. Effie's looking a bit reproachful, but agrees when I give a little yawn.

"Okay then, darlings, let's go." She says gently, and then takes me by the hand- not so gently- and begins to lead us to the elevator, which is a beautiful contraption made of glass.

But on the way there I absent mindedly bump into someone. "Sorry, sorry." I mumble, but I look up to see the face of the district 8 boy. His hair has been spray painted different colours, like patchwork, but it's still as floppy as ever. He's wrapped in what I think is wool. I wonder if he's roasting in there.

He gives another smile. "Planning to escape again?" I can't tell if he's mocking me, so I just shake my head and return the shy grin. Then I curse myself. I should be glaring at this boy, not _smiling!_

"Well, it probably wouldn't wo-" But before he can finish, I'm dragged off by Finnick, and the door of the elevator closes before I even get a chance to ask his name.

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><p><strong>Okay, okay, I'm sorry I've been ages with this chapter. I've just been having important exams, and I've been sick, and so on. I hope you like this chapter, it was especilly hard to write since i had to come up with so many costume ideas! If you did like it, I would really appreciate it if you shared it, or favourited it or reviewed it; you would get mentioned in my next chapter if you review, and it would mean the absolute <em>world<em> to me! anyway, hopefully the chapter won't take so long to write, and please visit my other story, _Slightly Sexy Twilight: A Parody._**

**See you all again soon!**

**Love, Lucy.**


	6. Chapter 6: Training Days

_**Okay, so before we begin, I'm really really REALLY sorry I haven't posted anything in ages, just again, I've had exams (I've actually been writing another story in English, comment if you would like to hear more about it!) also, my parents seem to think that NOW is the best time to put me in loads of clubs -.- so I have hardly any time. But it's hear, the next chapter, and chapter 7 is already in progress! So yes, I don't own the Hunger Games, and thank you so much to LifeThroughSeaGreenEyes, Moonlight Beauty8, teampeeta07, Lady Luna Riddle, and GizzyGirl for favouriting, reviewing and subscribing to my story. You people keep me writing, so please check out their channels guys! Anyway, on with the story! **_

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><p>I'm woken up the next day by Effie pounding on the door. "Get up!" she cries. Then in a gentler tone, "It's going to be a big BIG day!" I groan. Today is when we begin training.<p>

It's not the training that I mind; it's the fact that I have to socialize with y competition. With the people that I have to kill in order to survive. I'm terrified, but also slightly curious. Maybe by meeting them I'll find out some good tactics to use on the other tributes. I look on my bed, and see a t-shirt and some trousers. The number 4 is sewn in to the back pocket, and when I put them on, they're pretty comfy. I brush my hair, which is a lot easier thanks to my prep team, but the tangles have begun to appear already. The weather outside is sunny, which would usually mean a day at the beach swimming with Mantis, but now I wish it was a colossal storm; that's how I feel inside.

I'm quiet at breakfast, which was the opposite of last night, when I was crying out in awe of our quarters. It's magnificent, all modern and sophisticated, with a view that stretches over the entire city. But now I don't care about the crystal chandeliers or the fluffy rugs, and I've seemed to be chewing the same piece of pancake for about half an hour now.

Of course, Garter is as happy as anything, so nobody notices me as he tells them all a so called humorous story about the time he caught a shark instead of a fish. "I nearly got it, you know," he said, wiping tears of laughter from his eyes. "I'm one of the best fishers in all of district 4." Skylar, Effie, Haven and Garter's stylist, whose name turns out to be Taylor, who has poker straight blue hair and jewels dotted around one eye. She keeps on saying, "Twinsies!" when she sees me, as our names sound the same. I give a little giggle every time, but really I just want to push her face into the bowl of porridge that she's eating right now. They all clap their hands in admiration, but Finnick is just listening interestedly. He looks at me with a very subtle wink as Garter explains how _some_ people don't know how to fish very well. Obviously he remembers the conversation we had on the train.

Effie looks at her watch. "OH MY GOODNESS!" she cries, causing us all to jump and Taylor to drop her spoon on her suede skirt. "We're late!" she shrieks, unaware of the chaos that has emerged. She grabs Garter and me by the arm and pulls us towards the lift. "Good luck!" I hear someone call. I think it's Skylar.

"Nice butt!" that's definatly Finnick.

We run into the training room, which is already full. It's a big dark looking room with red stripes, with equipment and weapons strewn out all over the place. Above us are the gamemakers, who will obviously be watching us while we train. The woman in charge of training us all gives us both a disapproving look, and we both sheepishly move into our place around her. "Quiet everyone!" she says in a clear, pruney voice. "Now, welcome to the training centre. Over the next two days, you will be taught how to be able to battle your way through the arena. There are different stations, each one with a different skill to teach. We wish for you to move calmly throughout each station, and absolutely _**no fighting**_; you'll have plenty of time for that in the arena." I hear Garter give a little chuckle, and I see my fellow careers smirking as well. People are looking at me, expecting the same. Trying to keep to the status quo, I do my best to look smug, but just end up looking like I've swallowed a lemon.

"Now remember, don't just go for the big shiny weapons to practice with. If you wish to survive for more than a day, knowing how to start a fire can be the difference between life and death. Although the majority of you have had experience with weapons, it is most likely that more than half of you will die of natural causes. 10% of heatstroke, 20% from dehydration…."

She rambles on, and I let my mind wander. I already know this, and I know there's no point telling the other careers the stuff she's saying. And just as I suspect, as soon as she's finished talking they head over to the station which holds the deadliest looking weapons, and I find myself following them.

Garter takes the spear of course, and the rest of the careers scramble for the rest of the weapons, so all that's left for me is an axe. I shrug. I might as well make this work; I can't be any worse with an axe than I am with a spear.

We begin training with these objects which make me feel wrong even by holding them. Occasionally we swap weapons, but I do so reluctantly, as it actually comes to show that I'm not too shabby with the axe. On the first few tries I'm only a little bit off the centre of the target, and with a few more throws I manage to do it. The other careers nod, pretty impressed, and the other tributes seem to be a bit wary of me. Probably the reason for that is because I imagine Garter as the target.

And yet I seem to be beside him the whole time. Pretty two faced, I know. We attempt to laugh and joke, as we both know that if we start arguing, the other careers will turn against one of us; and Garter knows that I'm good at getting people on my side, so he doesn't try anything. But I don't take any chances either.

With the other weapons I don't appear to be_ too_ incompetent with them. Although I never get a bullzeye, I do hit the target a lot with the bow and arrows. However, I don't seem to be pretty swift with the knife, and I'm even worse at throwing them. I have to practise with them a lot more. I don't dare try to practice with the bludgeon. It looks such a barbaric weapon and the guy from two looks too fond of it for me to try and take it off him.

Unfortunately I can't avoid using the spear for much longer. They're all pushing it at me now, expecting me to be brilliant with it like Garter is. Oh, how wrong they are. I finally take it, and line up in front of the target, shaking nervously.

_Come on now, Paylor, _I say to myself_, don't be an idiot, don't let them think you're weak, just hit the target, that's all I'm asking, just hit the target-_

I throw it at the target madly, but it goes in the complete opposite direction. It zooms past the district 3 girl who squeals, and nearly it narrowly missies the girl from 6. She jumps back from the camouflage station, eyes wide and mouth open.

"I'm sorry, I'm sorry!" I shriek, running over to her to check if she's ok. She's giggling. "Yeah, I'm fine thanks." She says politely, but then gives a cheeky smile. "I don't think you should practice with the spear anymore though." Suddenly, I find myself laughing. We begin talking, and I decide to ditch the careers for a bit- they won't mind, they're too busy fighting over who gets to use the sword next- and pick up some survival skills with her. We talk quite a lot; not asking any personal questions, but she seems like a pretty sweet and kind girl, just like an ordinary 12 year old would seem. She talks a lot about the boy from 12, saying all the stuff that I've been thinking, but quickly shuts up when a Gamemaker strolls past. All throughout this I'm learning some pretty decent tips to stay alive. I'm just learning how to make a fire when I spot the boy from 8 dodging plastic knives which the trainers are throwing at him. He just about misses one by doing some sort of pirouette in mid-air. I take the opportunity to get him back for mocking me.

I stroll over. "Training for the ballet?" I say, in the best snide voice I can muster up. This startles him, and he gets hit bang on, right in the face. He rubs his temple, and then sticks his middle finger up at me. The gamemakers raise their eyebrows, but don't do anything; they know he's not too offended. I grin at him and stroll back to my station.

After learning some very good survival skills I wander back to the careers to see what they make of my terrible spear handling. Garter has a smirk on his face, but the others don't seem to be too bothered. I just stick with the axe for the rest of the morning.

As training continues, I find out a little bit more about my opponents. The girl from district 1 is very beefy, and she's got a pretty manly personality to go with it. Her name is Starlet, and she became such a tomboy due to having 6 older brothers and no sisters. They all volunteered for the hunger games. They all won.

The boy from 1 is called Jazz and is a little bit less scary, but even so, I make sure to keep a distance from him. He seems pretty nice, and of course being from district 1 he is very good looking, but brags a lot about how he broke this guy's leg with just one hit. When I ask him why he did it, Jazz just smirks and says,

"He looked at me funny."

The girl from 2, name of Marilyn, is a lot quieter. She's the youngest out of all of us, being only 13, with dark hair and big blue eyes, and she actually seems pretty nervous and dreamy, plus she isn't very good with any weapons apart from a slingshot. Turns out she was bullied a bit at school, leaving her weak and scared of a lot of things. I find myself feeling sorry for her, but then scorn myself. _Being empathetic won't help you win._

And finally, the boy from two is the nicest of them all. His name is Sam, and it seems like I'll have some competition during the interview. You have to hand it to him; he knows his stuff about charming. I act charming too, and we find ourselves laughing and joking around even though we've only known each other for a couple of hours. I flirt with him, acting stupidly, and he has this little comedy routine using his machete all set up for me. I can tell we're both really thinking how to slit each other's throats while they're sleeping. I can't help feeling sick at this,_ and_ with myself. Have the games already changed me before they've even started?

It's weird, though, I actually seem to like it. After being out casted by every boy around my age apart from Mantis- Oh god I shouldn't be thinking about him- it feels nice to have someone who seems to want me, even though I know it's fake.

But still, everything seems to be going pretty well. That is until lunch.

I sit with the careers of course. We're the only ones in a group; the other tributes are by themselves, apart from my new 12 year old friend, who seems to be suffering the droning coming from the mouth of the girl from 3, and boy, does she go on. I feel like stuffing my meal in her mouth; then maybe she'll shut up.

The rest of the careers are talking as well, usually about home. Each pair of district tributes seem to have a link with the other one, so we hear stories on how Starlet and Jazz had had to do an art project and ended up nearly blowing the whole school apart- don't ask, and that Sam and Marilyn were both in the school play one time and Marilyn forgot her lines, her costume ripped in two and she fell off the stage. She nervously laughs with everyone else at this story.

"So what about you guys?" asks Sam to me and Garter, "anything you've done together?"

_Argue with each other mainly_, I think. But Garter and I know we have to fit in, so we give each other a look, swallow deeply, put away our differences and get ourselves ready for the sheer agony that is sure to come.

"Well," I begin, and fake a small laugh, "there was this one time in the summer when we-"

"Oh, you mean the boat and pie incident?" asks Garter, and he too begins to chuckle. Obviously I have no idea what he's talking about, but I nod excitedly. "Yeah, that's the one I'm talking about!" we both begin laughing, while the others watch us, curiously waiting to hear more.

"You see," I begin, making the story up in my head as I go along, "Garter and I had decided to take out the boat to go fishing together," my voice wobbles at the end. I never thought I'd ever have to say those words at any point in my lifetime.

"It was _my _boat of course," Garter buts in, "Paylor could never afford one." he secretly gives me a sneer. Trust him to make a stab at me even when we're pretending to be friends.

I grimace back at him, and say, "although it was a rubbish boat, it kept stopping all of the time." Garter stops laughing for a second. "Anyway, before we'd managed to set off, the baker came over and decided to give us some pies to taste."

"But I thought that the bakers in 4 never let anyone have something for_ free_." Says Starlet suspiciously.

"Yeah, that's what I've heard." Adds Jazz.

"Yeah, well um, that one baker is really nice." Says Garter quickly. He doesn't sound at all believable, but everyone seems to be convinced.

"So we decided to take them out with us on the boat to eat while we fished." I continue, "We fished for a while, adding a nice pile up, ["I caught loads!" smirks Garter] when all of a sudden-"

"A great big fish jumps out of the water and slaps Paylor in the face!" cries Garter. Everyone begins laughing, as do I because I've got to keep this act up, but then say:

"Actually Garter, it was you who got hit. I remember seeing your face; you looked like you'd just been caught in a hurricane." I imitate him, and everyone laughs. Garter shakes his head.

"No, it was you."

"_No__,_ it was _you_-"

"Maybe you we're _both_ so shocked about the other one getting hurt you don't remember?" says Sam helpfully. We both jump at this opportunity.

"Yeah," I say, and I feel myself die a little inside, "that's it." this is torture, because if Garter were to get hurt, I'd most likely just laugh. "So we both jump back-"

"And Paylor falls in all the pies!" laughs Garter. He really wants to make sound like an idiot, doesn't he? Still, I decide to let this one go so I laugh along with everyone else. He continues, "So this fish is just laid on top of her, and it's practically _licking_ the pie off her!" everyone laughs, even though to me it's a disgusting thought.

"Gross!" exclaims Jazz, but he's laughing.

"Wish I was that fish." Purrs Sam. God, he's just as bad as Finnick. The other careers wolf whistle while I theatrically gasp, offended, and gently shove him, giggling- and with my skin crawling.

"And then the boat breaks down and completely falls apart, [Garter growls] so we both just fall into the water, with bits of boat, pie, and dead fish everywhere! And that's not the best part!" I pretend to wipe a tear of laughter from my eye. Time to make this story seem realistic. "This girl from Garter's class, you know the one, right?" I say to him. In order to make this seem real I have to include him in the conversation.

It's the last thing we _both _want him to do, but he answers, "you mean the blonde one?"

"No, the_ other_ one!"

"_Oh_, you mean the redhead?"

"That's the one, well she runs to the shore, doesn't see me, and yells to Garter, "Can I join you?"!" everyone's screaming with laughter now, slapping the tables, getting the hiccups. I can even hear people from nearby tables chuckling. I never really thought of myself as a funny person, except from when I'm with Mantis or Father- I really need to stop thinking about them!- but these guys seem to think of my story as hilarious. I'm just glad that it's over, because then we can talk about something else and Garter and I don't have to pretend to be friends anymore.

So after that we just talk about how good we are with weapons. It's ignorant, but it doesn't really bother me, so I stick it out and do my best to join in with the conversation.

"You see," says Sam, his straw coloured hair glimmering in the light. "I got these muscles by picking up bags of metal each day. I used to wow all of the girls with these guns." He wasted no time, and was immediately flexing. I placed a hand on his arm.

"Wow, they're amazing." I say in such a sickening voice I want to slap myself. But my natural instincts of lying and charming have taken me over.

He smirks, and passes me his pudding, "but of course, none of those girls have a chance against you."

I giggle like an idiot. "Oh shut up!" I say, flirtingly flicking him._ Please_, will someone just stab with me a knife or something-

"I'm serious," he says, looking into my eyes, "there was this one girl who looked like a seal, and she acted like one when she was clapping me." he does a cruel imitation of her, and I force myself to laugh. If being shallow is the only way to survive, then so be it. It doesn't mean I have to enjoy it.

"I wrote a story about a seal once," says Marilyn quietly. "The seal had special powers, only miss said that wasn't accurate, and gave me an F." I want to pat her on the shoulder as she does look quite upset by this, but everyone else ignores her, so I do too. Great, so I'm giving in to peer pressure now too.

Not that I wasn't before. I seriously want to blow off these careers, and I keep furiously asking myself why I don't. I know the answer of course. Leaving them will give me an even _smaller_ chance of winning.

Father is going to hate me.

"So," says Jazz in a hushed whisper, "what's our plan of action?" everyone suddenly stops eating, and begins to look serious. Though Marilyn is daydreaming of course.

"_My_ guess is," says Starlet, "go for the biggest threats first, and then weed out all the weak ones afterwards." Sam nods.

"But wouldn't that mean we'd have to weed out them _all_?" sneers Garter, not bothering to keep his voice down. We all laugh, but mine appears a lot later than everyone else's.

"But in what order should we go for them during the blood bath?" asks Sam, "we really need to sort that out, take them all out to save a lot of trouble of finding them in the arena."

"By the way," I put in, as I know I have to speak up sometime. "What do you think will the arena be like?"

"It won't be like last year, thank god." Jazz says with a sigh of relief. "They always do something completely different from the year before."

They talk about it while I ponder. What _will_ it be like? I'm really hoping what Jazz has said is true, because I know I haven't got a chance of surviving in a swamp arena filled with disgusting creatures. I'm hoping it's some kind of water type place; I'm good at swimming and there'll be a lot of water to drink from. I just hope it isn't salt water, because getting the salt out of it; I have no idea how _that_ works. Or maybe a forest arena, that won't be too hard. It probably will be a forest; they always have wood since a couple of years back when nearly every tribute _froze_ to death during the games, even the victor.

"Anyway," Says Garter, "back on to our competition. I say we go for the boy from 9 first. He seems quite tough, so it's best to get him out of the way first." We quickly take a glance at him, to see his eyes glaring back at us. As he's sat at the table nearest to us, he's heard every word. I shuffle uncomfortably in my seat, but the rest of the careers just give him an evil grin. He goes back to his lunch.

"Then next, the boy from 6-"

"What about the girl from 7? She's done better than him in the training!" Sam pipes in.

"I guess you're right. But without that axe, she's nothing. Paylor," Jazz says, making me jump, "you're good with an axe. Make sure you get it before she does." I give a nod, but running straight into the mess of the cornucopia really isn't the best idea I had in mind for myself.

"Okay," says Garter, "so the boy from 9, the girl from 7, and then the boy from 6. Remember guys, when we kill them, make sure to give the audience a show. That way they'll like us better; maybe even send us more sponsor gifts; if we need them I mean." Everyone nods, including me. But how can they all talk about this so casually, as if they were deciding what to have for dinner? How can they be so ignorant? How can they be so sure that their opponents won't kill them _first_?

"So who else?" I say. I desperately want to get out of this conversation, but what else can I do?

"Erm, how about that girl from 8?"

"Yeah, she seems pretty tough, plus I've heard that she and the boy from 6 have made an alliance. After we've killed him she'll come running in to save him, and BAM! We'll kill her the same way!" The whole of the table laughs. I'm getting seriously annoyed with them right now, but I don't say anything.

"Why her?" asks Starlet, "why not the girl from 6?"

"You mean that little kid? Why would he want _her_? I mean did you see her practising with a bow? She's almost as bad as that boy from 12, ha-ha!" Laughs Sam. The anger is building up inside of me, I'm even starting to twitch, how DARE they?

"She's my friend." I say slowly with gritted teeth.

Everyone raises their eyebrows, but they aren't too surprised since they saw me with her just an hour ago. Maybe that's why they said that. "Why on _earth_ would you pick _her_ as a friend?" asks Starlet. She almost sounds disgusted. I don't say anything.

"Maybe because Paylor knows that _she's_ just as bad with a bow?" mocks Garter, which is unfair because I'm not actually that bad. I'm getting even angrier now.

"Leave her alone, Garter." Says Sam. Garter quickly shuts up. I can't say that I'm not grateful to Sam for this, but I still want to slam his face into the plate he's eating from after he made fun of the girl from 6.

"You're also friends with that boy from 8, aren't you Paylor?" says Marilyn randomly. She sees everyone's questioning look. "I saw her talking to him a while ago." She explains, her voice still sounding dreamy.

"WHAT?" the other 4 of them say. They seem pretty annoyed with me now.

"No, we're not friends," I stammer quickly, "I just-"

"Why, Paylor, _why?"_

"Yeah Paylor, he's even worse than the 12 year old!"

"Actually, he's pretty good with weapons and stuff." I say defensively. I know this because I've seen him; and I'm not lying, he_ is_ good. Nearly career standard.

"No, we mean about what he's been_ saying__." _Whispers Starlet. "I overheard him at the beginning of training; he was talking to the other district 8 tribute. The things he was saying!"

"Like what?" I ask.

"He was talking about how stupid the gamemakers were, saying how they found wine more interesting while children were teaching themselves how to kill others."

"Stupid idiot," says Garter, "what else?" I'm really starting to follow in my mother's angry footsteps; I've managed to squish my carrots into mushy nothingness with my fork.

"I'm not sure, he was pretty far away, plus he was mumbling to her, but I know he definatly insulted the games, and even President Snow!" they all gasp, but I'm not really sure _why_. Why wouldn't he insult Snow, he's the reason 23 of us are going to die.

"It's just because he's jealous that he has _no _chance in the hunger games." Says Sam bitterly, and they all laugh meanly. I clench my fists.

"Yeah, I'm glad Snow _did_ create these games, to get rid of weasels like him-"

"SHUT UP!" I shoot up, making them all jump and knocking over my drink. The whole room's gone silent and the Gamemakers are watching us warily while I continue screaming, "HOW DARE YOU? HOW ******* _**DARE YOU**_?"

I've lost my temper; I'm in full rampaging mode. Soon after my outburst Starlet seems to be too.

"WHAT THE **** ARE YOU TALKING ABOUT? YOU'RE NOT SERIOUSLY SAYING THAT YOU _**AGREE**_ WITH HIM?"

"YEAH, I DO ACTUALLY!"

"WHO THE **** DO YOU THINK YOU ARE?" I want to throw myself at her with my knife, but I'm not stupid enough to do that, and neither is she. However, I'm three to one when Jazz and Garter join in. They're all double my size but I suddenly don't care.

"ARE YOU EVEN A PROPER CAREER?" Jazz yells.

"OH WOW, BEING ABLE TO KILL INNCOENT PEOPLE, THAT'S SOMETHING I'VE ALWAYS WANTED TO ******* TRAIN FOR!"

"JUST BECAUSE YOU CAN'T ******* DO IT!" cries Garter. "THAT'S WHY YOUR MOTHER HAS ALWAYS LIKED ME BEST!"

"BRINGING IN MY MOTHER, ARE WE?" I scream, "HOW ******* ORIGINAL YOU ****!"

The whole rooms staring at us; even the boy from 12 has stopped playing with his food and is looking scared. Gamemakers are running over.

"SHUT UP!" yells Starlet.

"_**MAKE ME**_ YOU FAT PIECE OF ****!"

"Okay, okay let's all calm down now!" says a Gamemaker, lodging himself between us. The whole room is looking at me, some admiring me some thinking I'm crazy, but they all seem to be on my side. I glare at the careers for a moment, and vice versa, before grabbing my plate- and spilling most of the food out of it- and beginning to stomp away. I've gone a few steps before Garter's words stop me. I turn around to see him pointing his finger accusingly at me.

"Walk one more step away from this table," he cries slowly, panting after shouting at me, "and you're dead meat."

The rest of the careers are looking at me in the same way, even Marilyn and Sam. The other tributes are desperately waiting to see what my response is; either I sheepishly walk back or I walk away. Even the gamemakers are holding their breath. The cameras must be loving this. I already know what I'm going to do.

I give a small laugh mockingly. "Oh trust me," I say coolly, "I was dead meat anyway."

And with that I walk off, leaving the whole table glaring at my back, seething. I get to the table furthest away from them, slam down my tray, and sit down. Once I've calmed down I realise what I've done.

I want to put my head in my hands; oh no, what is _wrong_ with me? I have single handily messed up any chance of me winning this thing. Now I'm going to be the careers biggest target, and they know all of my strengths_ and_ all of my weaknesses when it comes to weapons. I'm doomed.

And what about my family? My mother will be furious with me, and with the fact I've ditched the very people that gave me the best chance of survival. Even father will be disappointed, he told me not to talk about what I thought of the careers and the games, and I've done just _that__. _Even Mantis will think I'm crazy.

But I don't want the careers to see my regret. I can't give them that satisfaction, so I begin spooning up forkfuls of food into my mouth. But after the fight I'm not hungry anymore and the food tastes like cardboard, but I eat it anyway. Bu suddenly my thoughts are interrupted when a voice comes out of nowhere:

"Can I sit with you?"

I look up to see the boy from 8. He's holding his tray and, well, not exactly smiling at me but it's not as if he's glaring.

Finnick's voice as he warned me not to get close to anyone flashes through my mind. I know I've already done so with the careers, but he said that it was ok. This on the other hand, will not go down well.

However, it's quite lonely, sitting at the table all by myself. And it's not as if I've followed the rules so far. _Ju__st don't be too friendly,_ I tell myself and then nod to the chair on the opposite side of the table, inclining that he can sit. He sits down quickly, and begins to eat. We don't talk.

But I come to notice as the meal goes on that he seems to be staring at me. Whenever I look up, BAM his eyes are staring at my face so intensely you'd think I'd been painted purple or something. He's staring at me alright, but surprisingly it's not in a drooly, lovey dovey creepy pervert way, like it was with Sam. It seems like he's trying to break into my head and read my thoughts. Thinking that I'm imagining it, I shake it off at first. But again, whenever my eyes slightly flicker up, I see_his_ eyes fixed on me. It's really starting to bug me, and due to the current circumstances, I'm in no mood to be pleasant. After 5 more minutes of the torture, I snap, "_What?"_

"Huh?" asks the boy, still staring.

"Why were you staring at me?" I demand, flicking my hair out of my eyes so I can squint them at him suspiciously. Is he thinking of the best way to chop off my head or something?

"No I wasn't." he says, sounding annoyed.

"Yes you were!" I say, also ticked off.

"No I wasn't."

"Yes, you _were_, I saw you!"

"But wouldn't that mean you were staring at _me_?" that's it.

"Argh!" this is not going well. I get up and storm out of the room, leaving my lunch. My appetite hasn't come back, anyway.

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><p><em><strong>So finally, her and the boy have had a conversation! Not a particulary GOOD one, but still, yaaayyy! So the next chapter will be on quicker than this one was, please keep reviewing and favouriting! Remember if you do, you'll get a shout out in my next story! Also check out my other story, Slightly Sexy Twilight: a parody. I've been getting so many reads latley on both of them, and I've got you guys to thank for! Anyway, there's going to be a lot more of district 8 boy in the next chapter, so don't worry, haha!<strong>_

_**Love Lucy**_


	7. Chapter 7: Testing Times

_**So here's the next chapter. Sorry it took a while again, but- you've guesses it- I had a load of tests and things (the other story I wrote got an A*!) but yesterday was the first day of summer, so now I'll have plenty of free time to write the next chapters, so hopefully they'll be done quicker. I've already written a bit of the next chapter. So anyway, thank you so much to GizzyGirl, gabz1197, and whoever sent that anonymous review. Please check out their channels guys! So yes, I don't own the Hunger Games, and let's get on with the story... **_

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><p>"What on <em>earth<em> did you think you were doing?" Effie screams. "Do you _want _to get killed?"

"Give her a break Effie, you've been going on for ages-"

"No I will _not _give her a break, do you know how much trouble she's in?"

I'm back in our room. I thought that being here would bring me some peace and quiet; a chance to calm down, but to my dismay, Effie had been watching the cameras; she's seen the whole thing.

"Yes, yes we do." Says Skylar.

"Look, Effie," I say sheepishly. I have never seen Effie this angry before, so truth be told, I'm pretty terrified, "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to-"

"Oh, you didn't mean to?" she says sarcastically, in a quiet voice; it is scarier than when she was shouting, and much more sinister. "You didn't mean to SCREAM IN FRONT OF THE GOVERNMENT AND THE PEOPLE WHO ARE **TRYING TO KILL YOU**?"

"Effie, what's done is done," says Finnick, placing his hand on her shoulder. "Shouting won't make it any better. We just need to calm down and explain to the Gamemakers what was going on." I give Finnick a grateful smile.

"But this could affect my job." She says sadly. Of course; Effie's only looking out for herself. Typical Capitol citizen. "She could get us all in trouble! I just want to know what was going through her stupid little mind when she decided to say those things-"

"They were laughing about killing people." I say quickly. "They were making fun of my friends." To any normal civilised human being that would have been a pretty reasonable answer. Unfortunately to Effie, it was not.

"You've made friends?" says Skylar quietly. There seems to be a twitch in her eye, but only I notice this. No one listens to her.

"_WHAT_ DID YOU JUST SAY?" screams Effie.

I look down into my lap, trying to avoid her gaze. "I didn't want the games to change me, just because of what they were saying."

"Change you? CHANGE YOU!" she yells. I look up slightly and am shocked by what I see. She looks like a rabid dog; her nostrils are flaring, she's grinding her teeth, she's flinging her arms around. It's not just a dog. I see something else. Someone who looks slightly like me. Someone who was and always will be disapproving of everything I do or say. And it's that that hurts the most.

"OF COURSE IT'S GOING TO CHANGE YOU, YOU STUPID GIRL! IT'S CHANGED _EVERYONE_. DO YOU THINK OTHER PEOPLE **_WANT TO DIE_**? **NO!** ARE YOU THE **_ONLY_** ONE WHO HAS TO PUT UP WITH THIS? **NO! **DO YOU THINK I**_ WANT_** THIS JOB?** NO! **WATHCING KIDS DIE EVERY YEAR; IT'S HORRIBLE,BUT UNLIKE **_YOU_**, NONE OF **_US_** ARE COMPLAINING, WE'RE DOING WHAT WE'RE TOLD, SO GET OFF YOUR HIGH HORSE AND STOP ACTING LIKE YOU'RE SO** SPECIAL!" **as soon as she's finished, she realises what she's said. She places her hand over her mouth and starts shaking, frantically looking around for cameras to see if anyone's heard. Skylar quickly goes to make her some tea, and Finnick sits her down on the sofa while she keeps on twitching.

"I don't think I'm special." I say in a very small, sympathetic voice. It's true, I know I'm not, but still, what she's said has shocked me. Turns out it's not just the districts who hate the games, but also the Capitol citizens _themselves_. Maybe they're too scared to admit that they hate it. But still, it's not like _they're_ dying or anything. It still takes a while for me to wrap my head around it, though.

Effie doesn't reply.

Skylar brings in the tea, and Effie sips it. She takes a few deep breaths, and seems to calm down. She even manages to give me a little smile.

"I want you," she says to me slowly. "To go back into the training centre, go up to the careers, and apologize."

"But-"

"_Apologize."_

I think about it for a few seconds. On one hand, I'd rather slit my own throat than apologize to those barbaric ********, but on the other hand, I don't want Effie shouting at me again either. I look up to see that everyone's watching me, holding their breath.

I give a small nod. "Alright." Everyone sighs in relief.

"What's going on?" smiles Haven curiously, walking into the room.

"Nothing." I say quickly, and dart past him, shooting back to the training centre. I don't want an earful off _him_ either.

I walk back into the room, and everyone stops and stares, like I'm some kind of freak show. Roll up, roll up to see the amazing angry girl, who's always arguing and screaming! Well at least that would be better than the hunger games.

I realise that that's not the case though. Some of course are looking at me with fear, some disapprovingly, but some with… respect, is it? Admiration? I don't know, but somehow, it makes me smile. The boy from 12 beams at me, and suddenly I want to start crying again. If only he knew.

Out of the corner of my eye, I spot the careers. I don't do anything; I just walk to a station. True, it's not apologizing, but it's not exactly yelling at them either. It's a start.

I just begin practising camouflage, when I hear a familiar voice. "Mind if I train with you?" I looked up to see the same boy from lunchtime giving me a nervous smile.

It didn't take me too much to simply say, "Yes. Yes it does."

"Look, I just think we got off on the wrong start. I'm Jed, your Zara-"

"Paylor. It's Paylor."

"Ok then _Paylor,_ I hope we can be friends."

"Hmm," I grunt. I don't want him here, but I no longer have the energy or the heart to push him away. We train in silence for a while, while I make occasional comments to the woman manning the station. She turns out to be a really nice woman in her mid-50s, and she shows me how to paint the texture of the mud just right, so my arm looks like it's part of a tree. Things are going just fine, but the boy- Jed, I mean, I have to start calling him that now don't I? – Anyway, he disturbs it by saying:

"I just want to say, what you did during lunch-"

"Oh God, don't remind me, that was a really stupid thing to do, even for me-"

He rolls his eyes. "It wasn't stupid. It was _brave_."

"Brave?" I repeat. The word tastes nice on my tongue, especially since I've never been called that before.

"I was actually wondering when you were going to do that."

"Oh," I say, realising, "you knew I was crazy because of that argument on the train-"

He laughs a little, which sounds nice, even if it is a little patronizing. "No, because you don't seem a career type."

"Was that supposed to be an insult?"

He smirks. "Well, you have just ruined your biggest chance of winning."

In decide to stay on top of things, so I give myself a silly voice, and say, "well, you know me. I'm way to indie to stick to the trends. I'm a hipster." He shakes his head and smiles.

"So, how did it go?"

It's later that night. I'm back in the room, eating dinner with everyone else. Garter's in the shower, so therefore he won't be hearing this conversation. "How did what go?" I ask, pushing my food around on my plate.

"You know," continues Finnick. He quickly looks around to make sure Garter hasn't appeared out of the soup or something, but we can still hear the water running. He still says the next bit more quietly: "You apologising to the others. How did it go?" Effie seems to give a little twitch at this. After her outburst yesterday, she knows it's better to keep her mouth shut or she could be arrested. However, although she's trying her best to act nonchalant it's pretty obvious that she's put him up to this.

"Oh!" I say, putting my fork down. "Well, umm…" they're all looking at me expectantly. I have a feeling they won't be too pleased with the true answer. "Err….they… they" I stammer, shoving food into my mouth so it looks like I just have table manners rather than I'm making up a lie on the spot. "They accepted it. Weren't too understanding at first, but we're ok now."

"Oh goodie!" says Effie, clapping her hands. "You're finally staying true to the spirit of the games! So I'm guessing you're allies with them again?"

I decide not to take the lying too far. "Well, no."

Cutlery clatters as the others drop them. "What?" cries Effie. "Why not?"

"I, err…."

"It's because she's got another ally from another district. They're friends now. The Gamemakers told me." Finnick interrupts, chewing on some beef. Suddenly, there's a scrape of a chair as Skylar gets up and walks from the room. I stare at her back, confused.

"What's with-"

Finnick shakes his head, shutting me up. "Another time. But for now, I thought I told you not to make an ally!"

"Well, actually," I say defensively, crossing my arms. I want to end this subject now, before it gets ugly. "We're not even allies yet. I wouldn't even say that we were friends. I'm just trying to figure out the enemy and their weaknesses after all." Finnick doesn't look entirely convinced, but gives a grunt and goes back to eating. Effie doesn't say anything for a while, but then pipes up.

"Well, it's better that she has an ally, than not having one at all."

"On another note," interrupts Haven. "Paylor darling, that outfit you're wearing tonight is clashing terribly."

I ignore him.

The next day, Jed and I go around the stations together. I'm quite tired, due to hearing those familiar screams again last night- I wonder who's doing it- but I'll live. Occasionally I joke, and occasionally I snap at him, and vice versa, but we _do_ start talking a lot more, and even though it pains me, we talk a lot about home. I find out that both his parents are loving and kind people who give him hugs and gifts all the time, especially after they lost his little sister from an illness at birth. He chokes a little while he says this, but his expression doesn't change. He likes to play football, and has a lot of friends at school. He also jokes around and says he's quite the thing with the ladies, but you can obviously tell he isn't.

Apart from that last bit, he seems to be the exact opposite of me.

As we go throughout the stations, I make sure not to give him any tips, acting on what Finnick told me. However, when we get to the rope tying station I come across a knot which is particularly hard to do, and after many tries he groans, swears and begins to help me.

"Look," he says, "all you have to do is this." He shows me the correct moves, until I finally begin to get it.

"Thanks." I said, nearly awe inspired on how quickly and nimbly his fingers can tie something.

He still looks annoyed. "Yeah, well, I'm from district 8, right? We spend our whole lives learning how to tie knots." Ah yes, he's from the textiles districts. Tying knots must be his way to make a living or something.

He pauses for a second, but then says, "I would have thought _you_ would have known how to tie a knot."

"What's _that _supposed to mean?" I ask. I'm not irritated or anything, just curious.

"Well, you're from 4, right? You're always making nets, which involves tying rope together."

"Yeah, but not complicated ones like these." I say enviously, looking at the amazing patterns he's created.

The next thing that comes out of his mouth is muttered so quietly I almost can't hear it, but I manage to catch: "yeah, well, you're a career, aren't you? You're supposed to know this stuff."

I drop my rope. "_What?" _it's obvious that I've heard exactly what he's said, and he knows it. It's strange, it's just a harmless comment, most people would brush it off. But somehow it really rubs me the wrong way.

He looks me directly in the eye, and says louder, "you're a career. You should know this stuff."

"Well, in case you haven't noticed, I'm not exactly career material, am I?" I hiss. I'm getting annoyed again, but make sure to keep my voice down in fear of getting in trouble again, so I'm practically whispering.

"You still are one though." He says, irritated as well.

"Do you think I _want _to be one?" Oh my God, I sound like Effie.

"Yeah well, the fact that you're always shouting makes it seem like it, yeah!"

"I'm not shouting!" and it's true, I'm not. I'm just hissing very loudly. "You're the one who started this!"

"Well, at least I don't come from the lapdog district of the Capitol!" He is really testing my patience.

"Is that the best you can come up with? How immature are _you_? _You_ were the one who came up to me in the first place! So why don't you just go?"

He scowls furiously at me. "Fine then, I will!"

"Fine!"

**"_Fine!"_ **And he storms off, leaving me alone at the station, glaring at his back. I turn around and carry on tying knots, acting like nothing else has happened. Unfortunately the rope I'm holding decides to pick this very moment to be difficult. I throw it down, do my best to smile at the man helping at the station, and walk as calmly as I can to the next one.

Jed seems to be calm already though, and ten minutes later, he walks right back to where I'm standing. He begins practising with the slingshot silently, looking down at the table, while I stare at him with disbelief.

What is this guy's problem? One minute he's following me around, and the next he hates me! Why is he sticking around if he can't stick _me_? It's not like I can help him. Unless….

Is he using me? Is he thinking by making friends with a career, I can do all of the work, get killed doing so and then he can wander out of the games as victor without so much as a scratch? Of course he doesn't like me; he just knows he has to be around me. I must admit, it's a clever plan, but then again, two can play at that game.

I'll play along, let him do the work, and let _him_ get killed doing so. Or maybe stab him while he's asleep. I'm hoping for the first option though, because I highly doubt I could ever be able to kill someone. Father would disown me.

Mother of course would be ecstatic.

I put on my best smile, and- wait. He's not trying to act nice or anything, so why should I? My plan is sly; I might as well keep my dignity, so I ditch the smile. Besides, I don't want to be friends with Jed. This guy could never, _ever _replace Mantis. Still, I cross my arms and ask:

"So basically, I'm guessing due to your crazy behaviour that you're asking for an ally?"

He acts like he hasn't even heard me and he doesn't look up. But after a while he shrugs his shoulders. This obviously means yes.

I'm waiting. Usually when people are waiting, the time goes by so slowly that seconds feel like years. However, time is flashing by for me, and I so don't want it to.

We are all waiting to be called for testing. Our skills will be performed in front of the Gamemakers, and they are going to come up with a score for it. I'm so nervous; my nails have been reduced to nothingness. This is only a test, but I feel that not only am I going into the games, but everyone who's watching will be judging my every move.

Thankfully we don't have to sit in order or anything; we get to lounge about on chairs or the floor. I know that if I would have ever had to sit next to my careers, I would be sure to regret it. They're looking very smug now, knowing that the scores are going to be an 8 at least. Well, maybe not Marilyn, she's just humming quietly to herself and gazing at the ceiling.

Jazz and Starlet aren't talking either. Starlet's face is contorted into a concentrated frown, as if she's planning what to do. She looks so deadly I'm actually starting to worry for the Gamemakers safety. Jazz looks pretty much the same. His right hand is twitching, so I can sense that's he's practising in his mind. But I know his weakness; he's not going to use his left hand in the test _or _the games, he can't do anything with it. I make a mental note that if I get into a fight with him, to hack his right hand off first. Then at least I'll have_ some _sort of a chance.

Sam and Garter, however, don't even seem bothered. They're sitting ignorantly and arrogantly, showing off, and are talking as loud as anything.

"I bet I'll get an 11 at _least!"_

"Yeah right, I bet _I'll _get a _12!"_

"Bet you won't, I'm _way_ better than you!"

"You are not!"

"Are to!"

"Are not!"

"_Are to!"_ gosh, immature much? They sound like 5 year olds that you'd see in _pre-school _for crying out loud. After they've finished that stupid argument Jazz gets called in. the testing has begun. We sit in silence for a while until Starlet is called. Then Garter pipes up again.

"Still," he says. "Whatever we get will be better than everyone else."

"Got that right, but we'll have some competition with Starlet, she's a machine I tell you."

"pfft." Sniggers Garter, "She's a _girl_. Boys always beat girls, it's practically the law. We're better than girls, and we're better than whatever species Marilyn is." He's not even bothering to keep his voice down, and she's _right _next to him. Sam seems a little unnerved by this though, and doesn't say anything for a while. He may be awful, but I guess he _is _human; he'll have to have _some_ sort of pleasant attitude towards his fellow district tribute. Then again, Garter and I don't.

Practically on cue, Garter points to me, while I stare into the corner, acting like he's oblivious to me. "And of course, Paylor will get like a minus 5 or something."

I look over, determined to keep my cool. As this isn't a very irritating comment, I decide to use my wits rather than my temper. "Please, if you're referring to a how _fat_ you are in metres competition, you're comments are highly true."

He stares at me for a moment, confused. Then the realisation dawns on his face and he gives me a scowl. But he got in trouble as well for the argument yesterday, so he keeps his mouth shut. It's not my best insult, but I sense Jed giving a little smile.

I'm sitting next to him, but we're both too anxious to talk. I decide to break the awkward silence though, and say nonchalantly,

"So what do score do you think you'll get?"

He ponders my question for a moment, then shrugs.

"Not sure. I'm hoping for an 8, but I'll probably get around a 6 or something." He's being modest of course.

Nothing else gets said. We sit silently while the tributes from districts 2-3 disappear. The sessions seem to be longer than usual, but to me they're not long _enough_. The careers walk away without so much as a tremor.

"So what about you?"

"Huh?" I say, I've completely forgotten he was there.

"What score do you think you'll get?"

I manage a little smile, and shrug too. "As long as it's not a negative number, I'm good." He sends a nervous grin back at me.

"Garter Wilde, district 4." Comes a smooth voice. Garter gives a smirk, and swags out of the room, leaving us all shaking behind him. There are only actual sane people in the room now. Well, that's if you count me.

But I think about what Jed has said. What score _will_ I get? I'm sure whatever score I get, it'll be disappointing. My father won't be bothered of course; he never seemed disappointed when I failed to catch any fish back home. But mother will be furious. She'll call me a failure of a daughter, she'll disown me, and she'll- And what about Mantis? Will he be embarrassed about it, or will he be teased for having _me _as a friend, the first career who got less than a 5 for a score?

And what am I going to show the Gamemakers? I must come up with some sort of plan, like everyone else has or I'll look even _more_ of an idiot out there. While I'm thinking this my hands seem to have gone into a small spasm; my fingers are entwining and untwining themselves with other fingers, one finger nail is always picking at another finger nail, and my feet are twitching too. Why am I so nervous?

Ok, so I'm definitely going for an axe, perhaps the bow and arrow too if I have time. I only have to chuck it at the target a couple of times, it won't be that hard. I just hope my nerves don't ruin it for me. Probably not though, I'm good around people. I'll show them my knowledge of berries and plants, that'll show my survival skills. I just hope it's enough to get me a good score.

Maybe if I do get a bad score people will think I'm bluffing, like Johanna Mason, who acted all weepy and pathetic, until it turned out that she was a real vicious one. However, being in a career district, where no one has ever needed to bluff, it's unlikely that people would believe that approach.

"Zara Paylor, district 4" comes the smooth voice. Oh god, has Garter been and gone already? I stand up, doing my best to look intimidating, and force my feet to walk into the room. I'm greeted by a brand new range of dummies, targets, weapons and survival tools. I can also see the Gamemakers watching me intently. Of course, they want to see what "the crazy angry girl" can do with a weapon.

I swallow. "Zara Paylor, from district 4." I do my best to say in a clear and steady voice, then walk over to the table and grab the axe. They're all leaning forward in their chairs as I take my place in front of the target and throw.

I miss.

I hear some mutters of disappointment and a few sniggers as I close my eyes and want to kick myself. _Come on Paylor, you could do this fine during training, quit being such an idiot, _I think scornfully to myself. I take the walk of shame to retrieve the axe, take my place, and am just about to try again when a voice startles me:

"Stop! STOP!" I look up in disbelief as a rather chubby Gamemaker waddles down the stairs towards me, carrying some sort of white and blue material. What does he think he's _doing,_ he's _wasting _my precious testing time!

"Okay, so we've done phase one of the testing." He says. He already seems red in the face and exhausted from that trip to the ground floor.

"Huh?" I ask. Phase one? There have never been any phases before, you just go wild with some weapons and that's it.

Answering the questions in my mind, he says, "this year we're doing something a little differently. Our scientists have come up with a new suit. This suit will be able to genetically modify whomever is wearing it, causing them to take on a feeling which will make them the most hardworking, or the most deadly or vicious, etc. they can possibly be. We designed them for the avoxes, as it appears that beating them still doesn't get them to work hard enough." He seems a little uncomfortable saying this, as if he's said too much, but then he shrugs. It's ok, I'll be dead in a matter of days, I won't tell anyone. "And anyway, we were going to test them on animals, but then we decided: hey, why don't we get the tributes to try them out?" he says with a smile. Yes of course, we're doomed for slaughter anyway; why not make us guanine-pigs while you're at it?

"Now, on to phase two." He finishes, and shoves the material into my hands. Turns out that the material _is_ the suit, so I get a good look at it. It's blue with white lines and circles all over it, which all seem to light up. It looks quite frightening actually, and I don't want to try it on, even if it does make me better with the axe.

"We feel that using this is a more accurate way of seeing the tribute's potential." Says another Gamemaker from up above. "During the games, the tribute will most likely feel the adrenaline rush or the feelings that you will experience in the suit, which will make you more deadly in the games than here." I can almost hear him say, "And judging by your performance, I think you'll need it."

I want to say something, but the first Gamemaker is already shoving me towards the door of a changing room. "Go on then, hurry up and put it on."

Alone in the changing room, I slip it on, which is easier said than done. This must be why the testing sessions are longer; this thing is so hard to get on. Once it is on though, I immediately change my mind about everything bad I've thought about it.

It feels heavenly, like strands of silky air wrapped around my skin. I feel so free and light, I suddenly feel like I'm so bulky and bony that my skin is not worthy to touch it. However, there's one problem. The lights on the suit are flashing, but I don't feel anything. Not one thing. Have I broken it?

I walk out of the changing room, and say nervously, "I, err, don't feel any different." I expect them to start yelling at me, but instead I get a patronizing smile. Somehow this makes me feel even worse.

"That's because it hasn't been turned on yet." Says a Gamemaker with a particularly cool beard. He presses a button, and immediately a thick sheet of glass surrounds them all. Of course, they have to be careful. Someone may become so vicious due to wearing the suit that they may _attack_ the Gamemakers.

"Now don't worry," says the first Gamemaker. "The process is completely painless. The tributes who went before you didn't have any problems during _or_ after the test." This calms me down a little. Finally, they press the button that turns on the suit.

Suddenly, the lights on the suit flash even more brightly, and I feel the sensation of something seeping into my skin. My vision goes blurry for a second, and it feels like bolts of lightning are surging through me, and then-

I am filled with a frenzy of uncontrollable rage.

Great. Just when I thought I had my temper under control.

I glare at the dummies. I feel like they're so _stupid_, and yet the Capitol values them higher than us tributes. I want to tear those stupid dummies apart, that'll show those ******* Gamemaker ********.

"You want to see me with weapons? Then I'll show you ******* weapons!" I cry at them. In any other case, I would immediately be punching myself in the face and screaming at me to shut up while I await the punishment of the Capitol. But now I'm so angry I don't even care. And strangely enough, the Gamemakers aren't fazed by this at all. They'll have seen this before, no doubt. "Of course, it's obvious," I hear one mutter, "she's powered by anger." But somehow, their understanding only angers me more.

I run over to the weapon table, grab not only the axe but the sword and the knives as well, and line up at the targets, seething at them as if they were my greatest and deadliest enemies.

Let's get this over with.

"So then I took off the suit, and I felt completely normal again!" I'm talking to Finnick as we're making our way to the sofa to watch and see how we've done.

"Yeah, it was so cool!" exclaims Garter. Turns out he's powered by arrogance, which isn't very surprising to me.

"I'm just glad there were no side effects." Says Skylar, as we all sit down. The bright orange sofa is soft and squishy, with silky brown pillows. Popcorn is passed around as Finnick puts the TV on, but I'm too hungry to eat, even though this brand new substance to me is positively delicious.

"I'm surprised they let Paylor wear it," says Haven, shaking his head in disbelief, "it wouldn't have helped her figure in the slightest." I give him a small simpering, understanding smile, but then flip him off when his head has turned the other way. Finnick raises his eyebrows at me, but I see the flicker of a smile.

"I'm sure she looked just fine it, Haven." He says dismissively. Haven scowls.

"But still, how exciting!" cries Effie. "I can't wait until they're in shops; the Avoxes around here really need to pick up the pace a little bit more!" I turn my head to see the only Avox in the room, a small blonde girl who's now looking terrified. I suddenly find that I can't look at her anymore.

"So, what did you guys do in there?" asks Finnick.

"Well," begins Garter excitedly, "I threw the spear a couple of times- and hit the target _every_ time might I add- and used the sword. They were impressed, let me tell you."

"What about you, ginger?" Finnick asks, turning to me.

"She made a fool of herself, no doubt." Sniggers Garter. Haven smiles approvingly, but Skylar frowns and raises her finger to her lips.

"I used-" I begin, but am interrupted when the music starts, and the Capitol emblem flashes upon the screen.

"It's starting, it's starting!" Effie squeals, clapping her hands. As if it isn't obvious.

"Good evening, Panem!" Cries Caesar Flickerman, with a big smile. "So, you've seen the reaping, you've seen the training, and you've seen the chemistry between the tributes. So now for the moment you've all been waiting for, it's time to show the scores! Are you excited, Claudius?"

"You bet I am, Caesar, we finally get to see what these kids are made of!" he too has an equally cheesy grin.

"Now of course, these scores could affect the games and the tributes very much so."

"Yes, it can get you loads of sponsors-"

"Or it can make you the biggest threat, therefore, the biggest target."

"Just remember, someone may be bluffing!"

"Yes, they may be doing what young Johanna Mason did a couple of years back, so don't take the scores too literally!"

"Yes, anyway, I know that the testing sessions are meant to be a secret, but there seems to be a lot of rumours going around about this year's ones."

"Yes, I know what you're talking about, Claudius my boy, while getting ready I heard a lot of whispering about some kind of new suit!"

"Blimy, so did I!"

"Yes, it's very fishy indeed, and I'm not talking about the salmon that the chefs are making for me now." Good older Flickerman, always there to make a joke.

"So we seem to be babbling now, let's waste _no_ more time and see what the scores are!" everyone in the room leans forward in anticipation.

"So, first of all, Jazz Sampson from district 1!" a picture of him flashes upon the screen.

"Oooh, he's done very well!"

"Well, no doubt, I mean he's a career isn't he?"

"Well he's definatly career material, he's got an 11!" the number 11 flashes underneath his photo in silver letters.

"He's one to beat." I hear Finnick mutter under his breath.

The rest of the show goes on pretty much like that. The tribute's photo is shown, Caesar and Claudius both make a small comment, and the score is revealed. Starlet gets a 9, Sam receives a 10, and unfortunately for her Marilyn becomes the first career to ever get a 5. Caesar is a little disappointed by this, and I can sense that her mentor is too. Garter gives a smirk, and I can't help feeling sorry for the poor girl. Still, it's better than the district 3 girl, who only got a 2.

"Next is Garter Wilde, from district 4."

"He's a fighter, isn't he?"

"Yeah, he and his fellow district 4 don't seem to be too fond of each other."

"Anyway, let's see what he's got!" a number 10 flashes upon the screen.

Skylar smiles and Finnick gives him a clap on the back. Garter, however, seems annoyed that he hasn't had the highest score so far. "I should have got an 11 at least." He mutters.

"Don't be silly, a 10 is amazing!" Effie cries.

"Yeah, people will just want to kill Jazz more now, giving you more of a chance." Says Finnick. This seems to satisfy Garter, so he gives me a smug look that says _I can't wait to see how badly you've done._ I almost can't wait either, the tension is killing me.

"So now we have another district 4 tribute, Zara Paylor!"

"She's an interesting one, isn't she?"

"Yes, she doesn't seem to be teaming up with the other careers, you have to admit that's odd!" back home mother won't find it odd, she'll find it _infuriating._

"Hmm, maybe it's just part of her tactics or something."

"Let's hope that she has the skill to be able to do that!" he looks at the score sheet. "Wow…this is very rare…" I prepare myself for the worst as the number flashes upon the screen.

You can hear a pin drop.

My score isn't a 10.

It isn't a 3.

It isn't a 7.

It's a **_12._**

* * *

><p><em><strong>So there you have it, we've had a proper conversation with Jed now! Oh, and about the suit. I know it isn't very realistic, but hey, this is a fanfiction! And I must admit the description does make it sound like a suit from TRON, which is why I swapped the colours around. Anyway, I hope you liked this chapter, please favorite, review, share and subscribe! If you do, you'll get a shout out in the next chapter! Thank you so much for all of your support, see you soon!<strong>_

_**Love, Lucy**_


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